


I know we can't live forever, so we should stick together.

by queenofchildren



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Ice Mechanic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8406385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/pseuds/queenofchildren
Summary: Raven is all about solutions, always has been, and she enjoys thinking out of the box to get there. Her latest project is no exception - even if it includes marrying Roan of Azgeda, King of the Ice Nation, to help her people survive another apocalpyse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all eskimo-whispers' fault because she suggested a Fake Dating fic for Raven and Roan weeks ago. And now I finally found a way to make it happen. I still need a lot more plot, but as usual, I was too impatient to wait before posting.

Raven has heard _a lot_ of outrageous requests in her life. People tend to barge into her workshop at all hours of the day to demand this or that, usually right this very second, and Raven has become pretty good at telling them where they can shove their urgent problems.

But this... this takes the cake, no doubt about it. King Roan of Azgeda, stately and growly and, yes, a little bit intimidating as always, has just asked the strangest question ever.

“You want to what now?”

“I want to marry you.”

Raven is silent, searching for words even though clearly, there is only one thing to ask:

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because all the tribes who haven't turned against Skaikru are vying for first place among its allies. And Azgeda is going to be in that place.”

Raven rolls her eyes, instantly bored by the intricacies of grounder politics. “I don't see why I should care.”

“Isn't it obvious? A marriage between the King of Azgeda and one of Skaikru's leaders will show everyone how strong our ties are.”

“In that case, ask Clarke. ” She wonders if it would be rude to turn back to her workbench. She does have a lot of work to do.

“I have. She said no.”

“Oh, so I'm not even your first choice? That's flattering.”

He doesn't even have the grace to look ashamed. “You are one of Skaikru's most valuable warriors.”

“I'm not a warrior. I'm just a mechanic.”

“ _Just a mechanic_ who helped a bunch of children fend off 300 Trikru warriors. Who got through Mount Weather's defenses. Who stopped ALIE and helped destroy the City of Light. And who will help me prevent the total annihilation of all human life in this part of the world.”

Just a second ago, Raven was contemplating ways to compliment him out of the room without accidentally causing a diplomatic crisis. This man is the leader of the people who blew up her friends at Mount Weather; the son of the woman who ordered the attack. From the moment he stepped into her room, she had every intention of being as uncooperative as possible. But with that last sentence, whether she likes it or not, he has her hooked.

“How?”

“Azgeda territory is big, but even before the war, it was thinly settled. There is only one nuclear power plant within a radius of hundreds of miles. If we manage to shut it down, there'll be room enough for Azgeda and Skaikru to settle side by side.”

Raven's breath catches. If what he's saying is true... It would save the lives of everyone in Arkadia, and many more besides. It also means, she realizes almost as an afterthought, that he has a much clearer understanding of their situation than she assumed. Sure, there have been meetings, very secretive ones, but while Clarke informed all remaining grounder clan leaders about what ALIE told her in the city of light, Raven doubts she gave them that much information.

As if reading her thoughts, Roan says: “We have maps, you know. I do know _some_ things about my country,” and there's a smug little smile on his face when he says it that tells her he's not bluffing.

Which, unfortunately, means he's probably also right about how useful it would be to be allied with him.

“Why a marriage? Why not just formally announce that our people are allied? Draw up a treaty or something to finalise it?”

“Because alliances are abstract concepts. A marriage is a real thing; nothing but two people and trust. And we shouldn't forget: This is not just about taking out that power station. We will have to live together for a long time to come. What better way for me to show my people how serious I am about lasting peace with Skaikru than to marry one of them?”

She has to admit, there's a certain logic to his plan, and Raven wonders if perhaps King Roan may not be just the kind of grounder they do want on their side.

And if he does have the land he claims to have, how can she possibly say no? Not to mention, finding and taking out the power plants will be much easier with the help of people who actually know the lay of the land.

Still, the idea of being forced into this rubs her the wrong way.

“And if I say no? Will the alliance be off the table?”

“I'll have to find someone else then. Perhaps Bellamy will agree, he holds a lot of sway with your people, and I did save his life.” Roan smiles knowingly. “Then again, I'm afraid he still has not forgiven me for kidnapping Wanheda.”

Oddly enough, it is this stupid little joke – about Clarke and Bellamy, of all people, a topic Raven would not touch with a ten-foot pole – that makes her actually consider the offer.

“So what would that marriage entail?”

“For now, nothing except a ceremony and travelling together – which we would be either way if your council agrees to the plan.”

“We would?”

He smiles, apparently amused by her surprised question. “Of course. You are the most important person in this whole endeavour. You're the one who's going to dismantle that power plant. You don't think I'd let anyone else guard you on the trip there.”

“Guard me?” Raven doesn't know whether to be offended or slightly awed by this.

“So far, you may get away with saying you're “just a mechanic”. But eventually, the other clans are going to figure out that Wanheda was not alone when she brought down the mountain and freed everyone from the thrall of the City of Light. Eventually, people are going to find you, and they're going to want you on their side, willingly or not.”

Raven nods, slightly overwhelmed. She hasn't really looked at it that way before. Of course, defending the dropship, taking down Mount Weather and ALIE was a team effort, but so far she's been happy to let the attention for it fall on Clarke and, to some extent, Bellamy. It's dangerous being a hero.

“And at least in your plan, I'd come willingly,” Raven voices what he has only implied.

“I hope so, yes.” For the first time since he set foot into her workshop, Roan's tense expression gives away just how much he needs this deal. “Look, I know this is a lot to ask. But I would not ask if I was not convinced that we need more than an alliance if we want to create a future for our people. And I may not be a particularly nice man, but I promise to treat you with all the respect you deserve, to protect and care for you and never let anything happen to you if you do decide to become my wife.”

Raven's breath catches in her throat. For a proposed political union, that was quite the speech. But, she reminds herself, this is not the time to linger on the way he says “protect and care”, or on how earnest he looks when he's not smirking or sneering. The future of her people and his could depend on her decision. It doesn't really matter if she likes this man, or if she thinks she might like to fall in love before she gets married, or if he could not be more different from the man she used to think she would spend the rest of her life with.

“If I agree to this, what do I have to do?”

“If you agree to marry me, we formalise the alliance between Skaikru and Azgeda. I show Clarke the maps, we make a plan, you pack whatever you need, we leave for the power plant. The only difference our marriage will make is that before we leave, we will have a marriage ceremony, and on the mission, you will stay close to me.”

“And after?” _If we survive_ , she mentally adds, because there's always the chance they won't make it past their nuclear honeymoon.

“After, you come live with me at my court.”

“I won't get to live with my people?”

“Not permanently, I'm afraid. But they will most likely settle nearby. Visits are an option. We could also move some of Skaikru's people to our capitol and vice versa, to exchange knowledge and foster our alliance.”

Raven nods. It sounds... plausible, as much as anything connected to a political marriage can sound plausible.

“To be honest, I haven't thought much about it beyond the immediate steps, as I'm sure you can understand. But I think...” he swallows, definitely nervous now, “I think it might be worth a try.”

“You said we'd live at your... court?” He nods. “How medieval do I have to imagine that? Because where I'm from, the monarchy's been abolished for centuries, so...”

He smiles wrily. “It's not that different from the way you live in Arkadia. There are warriors, craftspeople, healers.... everything to ensure things run smoothly and productively. Technologically, I doubt it will be up to your standards. But I intend to change that, with your help.”

Raven nods, unsure if she's put off by the idea of living in a place with questionable technological infrastructure or excited at the prospect of helping to build such an infrastructure. But there are other questions that are more pressing now, and if she's going to do this, she's going to go into it with all the facts straight.

“So how's that title passed on? Do you,” she almost manages not to blush, “need an heir or something?”

“It's a hereditary system. But childless rulers have adopted a protégé to succeed them in the past.”

Raven nods again, aware that it must start to look like a nervous tick by now but unable to stop it.

“Of course, we should display a certain amount of intimacy to convince people of our connection.”

That prompts one more nod from her, all business because she's definitely not distracted by his broad shoulders and sinewy arms and strong hands, calloused and scarred to match hers.

“I think I can manage that.”

“Are you sure?”

Well, that is a weird area in which to have her abilities questioned for the first time.

“I'm a pragmatic woman. And you're not the only one who wants to keep their people safe.”

“Is that a yes?”

Raven thinks, randomly, of some cheesy movie she watched with Finn back on the Ark. It featured a proposal too, and when the romance hero had asked the same question, the shiny-haired heroine had shrieked “Yes!” in response and then thrown herself at the hero to be picked up and twirled around.

“Looks like it is.”

This proposal ends in a handshake, an alliance treaty, and a council meeting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Things play out much like Roan has predicted: There's a peace treaty, signed in blood. There are days bent over maps and blueprints and every bit of available data about power plants on earth before the cataclysm they could find on the Ark databases. There are also long, heated debates about whether or not they can even trust Roan's information, which they need to decide before they can come up with a strategy. Should they send small teams in all directions to try and dismantle as many nuclear power plants as possible? Or trust Roan to help them take down one stretegically placed plant in order to gain new, safe ground to settle on? And even if they do, if everything goes well and they get the land, who's to say they will even be able to settle there? Conditions are even harsher in Azgeda territory, and they're going to need a lot of help from the Ice Nation if they want to build a future there. But then again, securing that help will be Raven's job, if the council agrees to an alliance with Azgeda that would be sealed by their marriage.

Normally, Raven would beg off those long council meetings and focus on advancing their budding society's infratructure instead. But this time, she might be playing an important role in things to come. So she stays, listening as they decide to trust Roan about the power plant (the verdict mostly influenced by the fact that Clarke vouches for him) and then to send a team of Arkadians and Azgeda to dismantle it, before the conversation turns to her marriage plans and Raven has the strange experience of listening to other people debate her love life. It's Bellamy who finally suggests:

“Maybe we should let Raven decide for herself.”

He looks uneasy as he says it, and Raven's pretty sure she can guess where he's standing on the issue. But he gives her a little nod and she knows that, whatever she chooses, Bellamy will have her back.

“I have. If we're going through with the alliance with Azgeda, I'm going through with the marriage.”

Most of the small group doesn't even react, perfectly willing to accept her decision and no doubt relieved it didn't fall to them to make it. Clarke looks guilty and fidgets, but she doesn't meet Raven's eye, and she doesn't say anything. Among the choices they've made in the name of survival, this one is far from the harshest.

Still, there's some protest. Abby, always struggling to put the needs of the many above the wellfare of even one single person, looks at Raven with a worried expression.

“Raven, honey, you know you don't have to do this. You're so young, and this is a big step to take.”

Raven just shrugs - Earth doesn't care how young or old she is.

“The way I see it, we all have more to gain from this than I have to lose.”

And that, she thinks, is all there is to say on the topic.

Two days later, Raven is grounder royalty.

It's a short and unremarkable ceremony, a strange mixture of grounder rituals and Ark bureaucracy. Like everything the grounders seem to do, it involves blood and short, dramatic speeches and a variety of phrases repeated back and forth between the grounder warrior who's officiating the ceremony and the bride and groom.

Roan explained the necessary phrases to her beforehand and practised them with her, surprisingly patient with her butchering of his language. Raven thinks she even saw him fight a smile once or twice, and there was something almost like hope blooming in her chest.

There's not a lot of smiling from him at the ceremony itself. But when she places her hand in his, he gives it a reassuring squeeze, and when they've signed the Ark-issued marriage license and Kane awkwardly asks them to kiss, his lips are warm and gentle.

***

 

With both treaty and marriage out of the way, they're getting ready to leave at record speed, urged on by Clarke, who's looking paler and more worried by the day. Raven tries not to think about it, tries not to think about anything but the bits of nuclear physics she remembers from her training days and the large amount of knowledge she's been trying to cram into her head since Clarke told them about the impending meltdown.

Since this is not the kind of problem Raven has ever dealt with, she prepares by frantically packing up all of the tools in her workshop, until she needs Jasper's, Harper's and Monty's help to drag them all out to where Azgeda and Skaikru are packing supplies for their trek side by side.

Roan, calmly giving orders in the middle of utter pandemonium, only looks at Raven searchingly for a moment, not a muscle in his face moving in reaction. Then he commands with the same calm authority:

“We need more horses.”

She's already put on a defiant expression in expectation of his protest, but now Raven relaxes and can actually feel a smile tugging at her lips - perhaps being married to a King has its perks.

They set off the next morning, with a group that somehow got much bigger than expected. There's Clarke as the de facto leading representative of Arkadia, with Bellamy by her side. There's Monty, whose help Raven has requested now that Sinclair can't be with them. Monty is brilliant and they work together well, there's no question about not taking him. Monty coming apparently automatically means Jasper coming, and Raven has a suspicion that Miller's insistence on going with them has something to do with Monty too. Roan matched their number exactly and added two warriors of his own, which in turn prompted Bellamy to request Harper and Captain Miller come too. So here they are, sixteen people and four pack horses, trotting off into the unknown.

Roan insists on riding by her side, which would be fine because he doesn't talk much and she needs to think anyway. But his vow to protect her also apparently means being overbearing and proprietary, and when her thoughts start going in circles and she needs to talk to Monty, he flat-out refuses to let her ride ahead alone.

Which is a very bad decision, because it's barely three hours into what might be a weeks-long trip, and Raven's leg is already screaming in pain and causing her to have a very short fuse indeed. Within seconds, the King and Queen of the Ice Nation are squabbling over whether this behaviour constitutes “necessary protection” (his words) or “tyrannical bullshit” (Raven's _correct_ interpretation of the situation).

Clarke manages to interfere just before their entire party gets to witness Raven commit regicide. The only one of the Sky People who actually cuts a good figure on horseback, Clarke manoeuvres her horse between them and urges Raven's forward so she can catch up with Monty. Roan makes a sound of protest, but Raven ignores him and Clarke engages him in conversation while Raven flees, still seething with anger. She doesn't so much as look at her new husband again until they make camp in the evening.

With Roan no longer by her side, it becomes easier not to think about him, and what he means to her (absolutely nothing), and what he should mean to her (a whole lot more) and what he might come to mean to her in time (who even knows?). When she made the decision to go through with this marriage, a big part of what convinced her was the thought that, most likely, she'll never have to figure out if she can imagine spending the rest of her life with him anyway. The chances of them both making it through this adventure and saving the world in the process are laughably slim - why worry about a future she'll most likely never experience? For now, being a wife, even being a queen, means absolutely nothing. The only thing she needs to be is a good mechanic.

***

 

By the time they stop for the night, Raven hasn't exactly forgotten about the King of Azgeda, but she's become so wrapped up in technological details her anger has simmered down a little bit - enough for her not to bite Roan's head off immediately when he suddenly appears by her side, holding out his arms.

"I'll help you down."

Raven wants to protest that she can manage on her own, but that would be a straight-out lie - sitting astride for so long has been hell on her leg and hip, and she barely made it off the horse at their last break.

She puts her hand on his shoulders and lets him pull her off the horse. Pain shoots through her and her legs buckle when he tries to set her down, so Roan gently scoops her up and carries her over to a sheltered place a few steps away. Face burning in embarrassment, Raven lets him - making a scene would attract even more attention, and it's not like everyone doesn't know by now just how badly equipped she is to deal with a trek into the wilderness. She overheard Abby and Clarke fighting about it, Abby insisting that Raven ride in the Rover. But Clarke argued that they'd be more versatile on horseback, and Roan's descriptions of the landscape they'd have to navigate on their way North made it clear that versatility would trump comfort, even for her. Raven didn't say anything back then, figuring that being melted by radiation would be a lot more painful than her damned leg. But now, with Roan's face hard and unreadable, and his warriors watching their pitiful new queen sceptically, Raven wishes there had been some way to spare her this humiliation.

"I hope they told you beforehand that you're getting damaged goods."

She says it jokingly, head raised and eyes meeting his to make sure he understands that she may make quips about her but she won't accept pity, and she won't apologize for what she's like now. There's no pity in Roan's eyes when he replies, but no laughter in his voice either - just truth. 

"They told me a lot of things about you. I believe those I want to believe for my people, and those I've so far observed for myself."

He sets her down on an overturned tree trunk, then gets to work unfolding the Ark-issued tent they've been given.

"And what did you observe?" Raven asks casually, not sure if she really wants to know or if she's just trying to distract herself from her throbbing leg and hip.

From his position on the ground, Roan looks up at her and smirks.

"I think you know damn well which of your qualities would make someone decide you'd be a good queen."

"I'm in fucking pain. Humor me."

He chuckles. "Alright then. You're smart, which you know. Resilient. A fighter with or without a weapon, but I guess in your hands, everything can be turned into a weapon. And you're loyal, which makes me hope that some day I will deserve your loyalty too."

Much like his proposal, his words are direct and simple, no flowery compliments, and if it weren't for this morning's fight, she'd say he's already doing a pretty good job on the "respect" part of his promise.

"You could start by being a little less in my face all the time."

"I am trying to protect you."

"From what? I'm surrounded by people I trust."

"You are, yes. Until suddenly you're not. When that happens, I want to be by your side."

"Well, you're going to have to deal with not being there, or you'll be divorced before our honeymoon is even over."

His face darkens as he looks up at her.

"I don't think you understand how big a risk I'm taking with this marriage. Many of my people are already unhappy with my decision to ally with Skaikru. If I get my wife killed and invite retaliation from Skaikru... well, let's just say I won't be king much longer."

Despite her tiredness, Raven feels anger zip through her again, lightning-quick and enough to make her antsy. It's bad enough that her leg keeps her from moving around freely, now her new husband wants to tell her where to go too?

She struggles to her feet, relieved to find that her legs, though straining and pulsing in pain, hold her up.

"That's a risk you'll have to take. Now if you excuse me, I have to keep figuring out a way to save all of our asses.”

She's limped off before he has disentangled himself from the strings and folds of their tent.

Roan lets her go, which means there must be some semblance of a self-preservation instinct within him, and she returns to poring over the blueprints with Jasper and Monty for the hundredth time.

When they've talked and talked, only interrupting their work to catch a quick bite to eat, and Bellamy tells them to call it a day and get some sleep, Raven briefly considers seeking refuge in another tent. But just as she's about to ask Monty to grant her asylum, her friend pointedly looks at something to her side, and she turns her head imperceptibly to spot the group of Azgeda warriors watching her with open interest – just as they've watched her earlier, less than harmonious interactions with their king. Just as, it suddenly hits her, they will watch her every move from now on.

So Raven does something that doesn't come naturally to her, and stops to think before doing something rash. And then she very calmy walks towards the fire, straight to the place where her new husband is sitting, talking to Miller and methodically sharpening his many blades. She stops for a moment beside him, pastes a smile on her face that is just wide enough to be clearly visible to the grounders standing a few feet away, and says in a tone that is almost friendly:

“I'm going to bed.”

Then she keeps moving, head held high under the weight of the gazes that follow her back to the tent. She alone made the decision to enter a political marriage. She might as well try and not fuck it up, no matter how much of an ass her new husband is.

She hears Roan slip into the tent a little while later, so quiet he would not have woken her if she'd been asleep already. He doesn't disturb her when he lies down either, or even so much as touch her, careful to keep what little distance he can in the cramped tent.

He's the very picture of respect, and it does reassure her. But it also makes the tent feel very cold and very lonely.

But, Raven reminds herself, there's no room for doubts on earth, and even less for self-pity.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the short chapters - it's just that, as soon as I've finished another bit, I want to post it and revel in the attention. I'm terrible like that.


	3. Chapter 3

It seems Roan interprets Raven's decision to sleep in their tent as a peace offering, because he lets her ride ahead without protest the next day, and while she can sense his eyes on her a lot of the time, she no longer feels quite as smothered. And there are perks to his attention: She may hate that she has to be lifted off her horse, but Roan does it without needing to be asked, without fanfare or commentary but with a gentleness that she wants to know the source of, so strange and out of place among his knives and scars and padded leather armour.

The second evening, Roan hands her one of his daggers and informs her that he has taken over a guard shift and will be coming in late, and though it feels like it should be something Raven doesn't need to know, she's still thankful for the information, and even more so for the weapon.

The third day, too, procedes in much the same manner, although Raven starts the trek by Roan's side, making small-talk through the first stage of the day's ride. Roan lifts her off and on the horse with the same astonishing ease, although his face darkens a little each time her hands tighten on his shoulders in anticipation of the pain.

All in all, Raven is glad to note that her first foray into the world of politics has not turned into a complete catastrophe yet. By the time Bellamy rides up to her and asks how married life is treating her, voice teasing but expression earnest and caring, Raven can honestly tell him that it's not too bad.

The next morning, Roan wakes her early and beckons her outside, where he's saddled up her horse. But before Raven can ask what the hell is going on, she notices that someone made some adjustments to the saddle: The leather stirrups are both dangling down on the same side of the saddle, though at different heights, and there's a curved piece of wood or something attached to it on that same side, wrapped around with cloth and some kind of padding. Raven has no idea what any of it is good for, but before she can ask, Roan has already lifted her up.

“I've made some adjustments to your saddle. Try riding like this for a while. If it's worse for your leg than sitting astride, I'll change it back.”

She doesn't even have to ask how to sit in it, for Roan guides her legs into the correct position, leaving her with her good leg in the lower stirrup and the other one hooked over the handle. It has a rounded, padded top made out of the curved piece of rubber she's seen some of the grounders wear on their armour, curving over her thigh to provide some much-needed stability. Roan must have put a lot of effort into these adjustments: there's even an extra leather strap on the opposite side to balance out the weight of her leg and keep the saddle from slipping down.

Theoretically, she understands and appreciates the principle behind it, but in practice, sitting sideways means a shift in to the left in her center of gravity, and it will take some practice to find her balance.

And then there's Roan, the warm friction of his hands as they glide over her thighs distracting her for a moment, and when he takes them off her she almost falls backwards off the horse.

“I thought we could try it out before everyone wakes up.” He looks up at her and nods encouragingly. “Come on, urge her on. I'll catch you if you fall off.”

He almost gets to make good on that promise just seconds into the experiment, because it doesn't take more than a few steps for Raven to lose her balance. Strong arms catch her and straighten her up again, but the incident is repeated until Roan takes the reins from her and brings the horse to a stop.

“You are really bad at this.”

“Well, excuse me for not being able to ride with just...” Raven starts to protest, then cuts herself off when he takes her foot out of the stirrup, steps on it and hauls himself up and on the horse to sit behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping."

That's all the information he gives her, and Raven huffs irritably, annoyed by the heat shooting to her cheeks. He lifts his arms, his hands flanking her hips on either side, but doesn't quite touch her.

"Now, I want you to shift your weight to the right, as far as necessary to balance out the pull of your legs. Try different positions until you've found one. I'll catch you if it doesn't work out."

She's not entirely sure what to think of his (almost) hands-on approach, but trial and error is a scientific method Raven is familiar with, and that's how she approaches the problem: as a question of mass and angle – and velocity when Roan urges the horse into motion again – and soon she's wrapped up in the lesson the way she gets wrapped up in a new experiment. Even Roan's close proximity ceases to be a distraction and becomes nothing more than a tool, a safety net to enable her to fail and fail again without hurting herself. She doesn't allow herself to question the fact that she trusts him completely not to let her fall, after knowing him for less than a month and being married for even less time.

By the time Bellamy emerges from his tent and makes some quip about acting like royalty and some ancient queen named Victoria, Raven has found a firm seat and Roan has lowered his hands, no longer needing to catch her.

"No one even gets that reference, you nerd," Raven fires back and Bellamy flashes her a grin, though his expression sobers when his eyes fall on her new-and-improved saddle.

"Is that thing safe?"

She can feel Roan shrug behind her.

"With the way you people wobble about on horseback, it's not much more dangerous than riding astride. She'll get the hang of it.“

It's not the best compliment she's ever received, not to mention he doesn't actually say it to her, but Raven feels a tiny bit proud nonetheless.

Still, she's not going to let Roan know that. And she's _definitely_ not going to watch quietly as he and Bellamy get into one of their pissing contests.

“Yeah, until the damn horse decides to walk any faster than this.” She turns her head to look at her riding instructor. “Get off.” He looks startled, raises one brow in question. “If we ever want to get anywhere, I'm gonna need to practice the faster speeds.”

His face brightens as he gives a court nod, appreciation shining in his gaze and warming her cheeks.

"Good thinking." With that, he's jumped off the horse, and Raven is urging it into a walk and, after a few steps, into a slow trot.

And now it turns out that the practice paid off: Even alone, Raven wobbles only a little bit before finding her balance, her center of gravity resting exactly where it should, and she feels safe enough to leave Roan behind as she makes a leisurely lap around their camp.

When she completes her round and returns to the two men watching her, Bellamy still looks less than enthusiastic. But Roan is smiling brightly - and so, she realizes with sudden awe, is Raven herself.

***

 

They take a few more turns around the camp before Roan tells her to take a break while she still can. The reminder comes just in time: most of their party are awake and bustling about, and Raven doesn't have much more than half an hour's rest before everyone has saddled up and they're setting out again for the day's trip.

Raven's new saddle is met with a lot of curious stares and nosy questions, but she fields them all without blushing or falling off her horse, which she thinks is pretty impressive. By the time Clarke rides up and lets her horse fall into step beside Raven's, she's pretty much gotten used to the new riding style.

“This is new.” Clarke nods at the stirrups and handle holding Raven in her sideways position, about the seventh person to inquire about it today.

“Roan made it. He figured it would be easier on my leg.”

“And is it?”

“It's not easy to stay on, but there's less cramping when I get off. So far, I can't complain.”

“That was very thoughtful of him.” Clarke's tone remains carefully neutral, but Raven knows what she actually wants to ask: _Is he treating you well? Should I have saved you from this marriage?_

And a small part of Raven, the scared, irrational one she has taken great care to suppress these past days, wants to take her up on the unspoken offer and crawl back to the safety of Skaikru. But Raven doesn't want to be scared or irrational, and Clarke already has enough on her plate. And Roan's gift really _is_ nice – nice enough that, had they not already skipped everything that usually precedes a wedding, it might have been the start of something.

“It was. I mean, eventually I hope I'll also get some jewels and stuff, now that I'm queen...” Raven winks at her friend and smiles broadly, “but so far, I can't complain.”

Clarke smiles, relieved, and Raven feels a sudden burst of fondness for her friend. Clarke may have done some things Raven disagreed with, but she always did what she thought was best for her friends – and Raven has no doubt that, should she ever express any unhappiness about her marriage, Clarke will come barging into the heart of Roan's kingdom to save her.

“Let's just hope it pays off the way it's supposed to”, Clarke says, still with a trace of tension in her voice, and Raven can only nod in agreement. Yes, she hopes so too.

***

 

That night in their tent, Roan starts a conversation for the first time.

“Do you still hate my people – for killing your friends?”

The question, low but clearly audible in the chilly silence of their tent, shocks her. There hasn't been much time to mourn those she lost, not when there are still so many people left to save. But Raven considers the question, never able to resist a mental challenge.

“I wanted to. It would have been so easy to simply hate all grounders, to follow Pike and slaughter as many of them as I can.”

Deep breaths, and patient silence from the man next to her.

“But I could never quite bring myself to hate all of you.” It's the truth, not political manoeuvering – her detail-oriented mind would not tolerate such a gross generalisation. “Some of you helped us. _You a_ re going to help us.”

“Yes, I am. I'm just glad to hear that I won't be hated all my life.”

“Did you think you would be?”

“I braced myself for the possibility.”

He says it calmly, in the same rational manner he proposed to her, but the thought strikes her as unbearably sad: That he married her, accepting the possibility that she might secretly wish him dead.

“You're in luck – I'm bad at holding grudges.”

"That's a relief." She can't see him in the complete darkness of their tent, but she imagines that there's a hint of a smile on his face, and it makes the air seem a little less frigid.

"Thank you, for the adjustments you made to the saddle. They really help."

"You're very welcome. If there's ever anything else I can do for you, tell me."

"I will," Raven says, although if she were honest she'd have to admit that she's objectively bad at asking for help. But tiredness is creeping up on her, and she just barely manages to murmur "Goodnight" before she's drifted off to sleep.

But the next night, it's her who asks a question as soon as he's settled in for the night, and him who answers - and just like that, they've established their first tradition.

Raven asks about life among the Ice Nation and in turn tells him about walking in space, with nothing between her and swift, painful death but a flimsy suit. And while they talk more and more during the day too, their nightly talks have a different quality to it. Perhaps it's because of the complete darkness, but Raven for her part speaks about things in a way she never does during the day, not even to Clarke or Monty or Bellamy.

And Roan seems to be doing the same. He never denies her an answer, and while, sure, he could just make things up or leave details out, he always sounds sincere, engaged in their conversations in a way that makes her hope he enjoys them as much as she does.

“What did you do to get banished?” She asks, one week into their trip. She's not sure she really wants to know, but talking to him for a while is better than falling asleep to the memory of whatever loved one will come to haunt her tonight.

For the first time, he hesitates, and Raven wonders if she went too far.

But then he speaks, low and confident.

“My mother accused me of trying to overthrow her.”

“And were you?”

“No. But my friends were, and she thought I was a part of it. She was wrong. I disagreed with her on a lot of things, but I didn't try to replace her by force. I only wanted her to change her ways, change the way she made us live. You probably noticed, we aren't exactly known for being a very peaceful clan...”

No, Raven thinks and remembers Gina's gentle smile, they're far from peaceful, the people she's supposed to be a part of now.

“And that's a good thing, most of the time. We live in a harsh world, and the last thing you can afford in such a world is show weakness. We were always known for being a violent bunch. But under my mother's rule, we became known for being cruel and vicious.”

“And you didn't want that.” It sounds too strange to be true: the King of the Ice Nation himself, whose facial scars, he told her the night before, indicate his strength as a warrior, arguing for less violence.

“No. I tried to influence my mother, to make her come around to our way of thinking. She didn't, and my friends became impatient. They staged a coup...”

“And it failed,” Raven completes the half-finished sentence, and hears him swallow hard in the silence of the tent.

“Yes. They were caught and executed, every last one of them. She made me watch, and then she had me dragged off of Azgeda territory and persuaded Lexa to place a ban on me.”

Raven's breath catches in her throat. She thought she knew tragedy, but this... Losing all her friends in a single stroke, and because they wanted to help her – she can't even imagine it.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and it sounds pitifully inadequate. But, as Raven knows from experience, there are no words to help with that kind of loss anyway.

But what she realises in that moment is that Roan isn't just King of the Ice Nation, the man she reluctantly bound herself to for the good of her people. He's as human as she is, he's suffered at the hands of the same people and battled the same enemies. And perhaps, she thinks, perhaps it's time to think of him in that light. What did he say about the symbolic meaning of their marriage? _Treaties are abstract concepts. A marriage is a real thing._

Perhaps it's time to let go of the abstract concept of “the grounders“, their needlessly cruel enemies, and embrace the real person beneath the grounder armour.

"Tell me about them - your friends," she asks impulsively.

And, after a moment of silence and a deep breath, Roan does.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope no one thought the side-saddle thing was too improbable. I am of course aware that it's very hard to ride this way, but we know Raven has trouble riding normally, so perhaps riding side-saddle really would be an improvement for her - who knows? (Not me, although I did find a short documentary about a woman who rides side-saddle and finds it easier because of her arthritis.)


	4. Chapter 4

Her evening conversations with Roan introduce Raven to the man behind the title of King of Azgeda, as well as the people he loved and lost. But, Raven realises, she has yet to actually interact with any of the other Ice Nation members of their little band. Roan introduced her to his warriors when they left Arkadia, but she has barely exchanged more than a few words with them since then.

Perhaps, Raven thinks, she ought to change that.

And so the next time they break for the night and Roan helps her off her horse, Raven doesn't let him carry her off somewhere nice and comfortable. She tells him to set her on to her feet and only holds on to his arm until the cramping stops (which takes much less time since she got the side-saddle), and when he takes the reins from her and waves over one of his warriors to take care of her horse, she stops him.

"I want to help."

He looks at her searchingly for a moment. Then he hands back the reins and turns towards the warrior approaching them.

"Dee, Raven will be helping you with the horses. Teach her how."

The woman nods, then takes the reins of Roans horse and starts leading it away. Nothing but a short jerk of her head indicates to Raven that she's supposed to follow. Well. This is going to be fun.

But surprisingly, it is.

Dee, a dark-haired woman about Abby's age with a round face that makes her look much more friendly than her warrior's bearing supports, is an unexpectedly patient teacher. Granted, she gives her short commands entirely in Azgedasleng, only translating when Raven looks too lost. But she demonstrates every movement slowly, and corrects Raven with firm, gentle hands when she's doing something wrong.

It doesn't take too long until Dee's satisfied nod indicates they're done, and Raven follows her instructor to the fire to see if there's anything to eat left over.

They haven't really had a conversation so much as an exchange of orders and questions, so Raven isn't entirely sure how this whole "getting to know Roan's people" thing is going so far. But she's not going to let that stop her. After all, it's been a long day - she can understand if the older woman is simply not in the mood for chitchat. Not to mention, without having to guide Raven, she probably would have been finished with her task much quicker.

"Thank you for teaching me," Raven says in a rare effort to be polite.

Dee nods. “You need teaching." It's not exactly flattering, but Raven understands the sentiment behind it: she does have a lot to learn if she wants to make it among the Ice Nation, even if it's something as simple as grooming and feeding a horse. "But now we eat.”

Raven's sure she has never heard more beautiful words. She wonders briefly if the older woman would appreciate a kiss of gratitude, then decides she'd probably take her head off if she tried.

Two minutes later, they're slurping the stew someone has thoughtfully left for them in the pot over the fire. They don't talk, both too tired and hungry, and as soon as her bowl is empty, Dee gets to her feet, no doubt to go to bed.

Raven's heart sinks. So when she thought she was bonding with one of her new people, the other woman only saw someone who slowed her down in her task, and is glad to be rid of her. Clearly, her efforts at reaching out still have a long way to go.

But just before she leaves, Dee turns towards her once more.

“Get up earlier tomorrow. I'm teaching you to saddle the horses as well.”

Raven nods, smiling softly into her bowl as the other woman walks away.

***

 

When Raven emerges from the tent the next morning, the clearing is empty save for the guards posted in the night - and Dee, standing by the fireplace and stirring a pot of what Raven hopes is some more of last night's stew.

It is, wonderfully warm and strengthening, and they sip silently for a moment before Dee says:

"You should learn to speak Azgedasleng. You'll need it at the stronghold."

"What's the stronghold?"

"It's our Polis: the Queen's - well, King's - palace and our biggest settlement."

"Your capital?"

"Yes. Except it's not a city but one big fortified complex where many of our people live and work."

Raven is immediately intrigued. She hasn't really spent much time thinking about where exactly she's going to live with her new husband - part of her attempt not to let the reality of her choice become quite so real yet, no doubt. But now that the topic has come up, she can't help but be curious.

"What's it like there?"

"I just told you."

"You told me _what_ it is. But what's it like to live there? Do you live there?"

"I do." Dee thinks for a moment. "It's a safe place, easy to defend."

"How so?"

Dee almost opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates. “I think King Roan will be better able to explain it.”

For a moment, Raven is even more intrigued – how complex are the Azgeda capitol's fortifications if they're that difficult to explain?

Then she realises what's actually happening: Dee doesn't know if she's allowed to tell her these kinds of vital details about the heart of the Ice Nation – if their King trusts her enough to let her.

The thought that Roan is holding things back from her stings more than Raven expected it to. She knew it would take a long time to go from being former enemies and reluctant allies to actually trusting each other... but she thought they had come further on the way than this. And only now does she realize how much she's come to rely on Roan's willingness to be open and honest with her, and how much it unnerves her to think he might not be. It's vital to her safety that she can rely on him of course, and to the strength of this alliance. But she's also come to rely on it on a more personal level, has started to feel a little less lost and lonely and scared of the future since they've begun talking.

Irritated, Raven carries out the morning's tasks in near-silence, but Dee doesn't seem to mind. She hopes she'll manage to lose herself in her tasks the way she usually does, but it turns out that grooming and saddling a horse isn't quite as mentally challenging as her usual tinkering, and that her thoughts still have plenty of leisure to wander. To go back over every conversation she's had with Roan since they started travelling, and wonder about the things he didn't tell her.

By the time they leave for the day and her husband lets his horse fall into step next to her, Raven is practically itching for a fight, their audience be damned.

But she reminds herself of the last time she was this angry at him, of the resolution she made not to let these things get to her. She's here on a diplomatic mission, not a personal one, and the future of her marriage is only important insofar as it determines the future of her people.

So Raven makes small-talk, asks about innocuous little things – the weather in these parts of Azgeda's territory, the types of edible plants to be found here, the way the Ice Nation raise and train their horses. If Roan finds her sudden interest in these topics unusual, or notices her silences when he asks her something in return, he doesn't say anything – not until they've made camp for the night and sat down by the fire. When everyone else is either busy or distracted, he says quietly:

“You're mad at me.”

“I'm not.” It's not a complete lie – she's more disappointed than mad, really, and thinking about it the entire time has made her reach the conclusion that perhaps she'd do the same thing in his position. After all, what grounds does he have to trust her? What's keeping her from gathering all the intel she can on the Azgeda's strengths and weaknesses and passing it on to her people?

“But there is something that's been weighing on your mind all day. What did you and Dee speak about this morning?”

“She told me about the stronghold. Or rather, she _didn't_ tell me about it, at least not much.” And then, because who's to say she can't be honest even if he isn't, Raven adds: “I assume it was on your orders.”

There's something flashing across his face, so subtle it takes her a moment to identify it as anger. Raven's anger is always hot and bright and right there on the surface, and she finds it hard to grasp the idea that someone could just tuck their anger away like this. But Roan can, apparently, because when he replies, his voice is even.

“You assume wrong. I didn't tell Dee anything of the sort. She's free to tell you whatever she likes. Just as you're free to ask whatever you like.”

And now Raven suddenly feels very stupid, because that didn't even occur to her.

Well, she'll just have to remedy that. Raising her head defiantly, she looks at him and asks:

“What's it like, the stronghold? And what makes it so safe?”

“It's built into a mountain. It's only accessible from one side, and only up a narrow road that provides no cover. It has caves that lead deep into the mountain and provide space for hundreds of people if necessary.”

“Like a castle.”

“Exactly. It's the safest place in all of Azgeda, but it has the potential to be so much more than that.” He's getting animated now, gesturing and turning towards her. “My mother turned the stronghold into a place of terror, nothing more than an instrument to cement and demonstrate her power. I want to turn it into a place of hope. Into a future.” He pauses, hesitating for a moment, then takes her hands in his. “And I'm hoping you can help me. The stronghold doesn't just protect us from enemies, its much more important role is in protecting us from earth itself. And I want to make it even better at doing that. I've seen what your technology can do, how it allows you to produce food in impossible conditions, and medicine we can only dream of. And if this mission fails, that's exactly what we're going to need. All of us.”

So this is his back-up plan: Turning the Azgeda stronghold into a bunker like Mount Weather. She's not sure it's feasible, but she's impressed by the fact that he's even considered it, and taken into account things like food and medicine. And more than that, she's touched by the way he stresses that last sentence, squeezing her hands as he says it: They're all included in this plan, his people and hers. They're in this together now.

Raven feels her throat tighten, feels her hands tremble with the unusually intimate gesture. When was the last time someone just held her hands like this? She can't seem to remember. She should tell him how much it means to her perhaps, thank him for being so honest, for including her people in his plans. But Raven's never been big on emotional declarations.

“You'd need to find a way to seal it off, make it air- and watertight. And then to install a recycling system for the air, and filters to let in oxygen without exposing everyone to radiation.”

“The stronghold is far away from the nuclear power plants. It may not even get hit by much of the radiation.”

“Not initially, no. But the fallout will get carried for hundreds of miles, and stay in the air, water and soil for decades. Even if we're safe from acute radiation poisoning, the long-term effects will be a problem.”

She explains what she knows about the medical dangers of radiation from Clarke's lectures on the topic, then returns to what she knows: The engineering side of it. She details ideas for how to expand the cave system and turn it into a bunker. Then there's the question of providing so many people with food, water and oxygen and also disposing of their waste... It's at this point that she breaks off as she notices the way Roan's staring at her.

“What?” Some silly, self-conscious instinct makes her lift her hand to her hair, to check if maybe something's stuck it in.

“You're a very impressive woman, Raven of the Sky People.”

His voice is warm, his expression soft and admiring, and Raven blushes like a teenager at a unity dance, unsure what to reply. She's talking about floating _waste management_ , and that's the moment he chooses to compliment her?

Luckily, perhaps, Clarke plops down next to her just then, excitedly waving a solar-powered data tablet and talking about a bunker nearby that may hold valuable tech. Soon, Clarke and Roan are debating the merits of taking the short detour in order to check it out, and Raven listens, relieved for the distraction and yet somehow not quite able to stop herself from remembering what he sounded like just now, or from being very aware of where his leg is pressed against hers and his arm occasionally bumps against her elbow.

It's highly irrritating, Raven thinks – after all, she has a nuclear meltdown to stop. She can't afford to let herself be distracted just because her new husband thinks she's _impressive_. Still - it's nice to be looked at like that.   
 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This gets pretty dark towards the end.

That night, a thin layer of frost settles over the ground and the trees for the first time since they started on their journey. Roan mentioned this might happen, that even as spring envelops Arkadia, the temperatures further North remain low, with a high propability of frost, ice and snow. They've packed accordingly, extra blankets and space-tested thermal underwear from the Ark and plenty of layers for insulation, but Raven still isn't entirely prepared for just how cold it gets in their tent at night.

She wakes up in the middle of the night, stiff and shivering, and finds that no matter how close she gathers her blankets, she doesn't really get warm. She's about to struggle to her feet and sneak out, hoping that the night guard shift will have kept the fire going and she can warm up there, when something heavy lands on top of her, immediately shutting out the worst of the cold. Stifling a startled shriek, Raven gropes around in the darkness until she feels fur and leather and metal clasps under her fingertips and realises what just saved her: Roan's travelling coat.

It's an amazingly multifunctional piece of clothing: Reaching down to his knees and with a hood attached at the top, it protects him from the elements for the most part. Long slits up the sides ensure maximum mobility, and the padding doesn't just provide insulation but also serves as an added layer of armour. And at night it turns into a blanket.

Which is why, she realizes, she can't accept his silent offer – he'd be the one freezing instead of her then.

She quickly wads up the coat and shoves it back towards him.

“What are you doing?“

“You need that coat. I don't. I have blankets.“

“And yet you're still cold.” The coat lands back on her again.

“If I take the coat, you'll be cold.” Struggling to push the heavy garment back onto Roan has the positive side-effect of making her feel a little bit stiff and frozen, but it also makes her feel kind of silly.

Thankfully, Roan finally stops trying to push the coat back into her direction and takes it into his hands instead, and Raven thinks she's won the debate when he harrumphs irritatedly: “This is ridiculous.”

And next thing she knows, the coat is smothering her again. But this time, she's not alone under it: Roan has scooted over onto her side of the tent and is now lying so close beside her that his arm is pressed against hers.

She's about to ask what the hell he's doing, when Roan pulls the coat over himself as well, careful not to expose her to the cold in the process: “If you're not going to take it, we'll just have to share.”

Rationally, she knows he has a point. Thermodynamics make it a very obvious solution to sleep huddled together, sharing the coat as well as their body heat. Heat always flows from a hotter to a colder body, and judging by the warmth already starting to envelop her, Roan is the former and she the latter. That's the sort of knowledge Raven clings to, trying very hard to think of body core temperatures and heat exchange and the dangers of hypothermia even as her cheeks are heating up much faster than they should in the frigid air and her heart is speeding up.

Which is ridiculous – it's not like they haven't touched before. He's spent the last weeks lifting her on and off her horse and carrying her around, which is not something she's let just anyone do but which, with him, doesn't feel as humiliating as it should somehow. They've had brief physical contact during their conversations, and their wedding featured an actual kiss, no matter how chaste. She can sure as hell handle sharing a coat to sleep under.

Especially since of course, this is not remotely like any of her other experiences of sleeping, in the literal sense, with another person. It lacks the comfort of curling into the other person the way she used to curl into Finn back on the Ark, when the temperature control system was malfunctioning or her mom had been particularly horrid or Finn particularly sweet (or a combination of all of those factors). Nor is it as intimate as having someone wrapped around her the way Wick liked to do on the few nights he slept over. Comfort and intimacy are not the point here, survival is. Huddling together keeps them warm, and that's all there is to it. Thermodynamics.

***

 

When Raven wakes up the next morning, Roan is already gone, sparing her the embarrassment of having to figure out how exactly to behave around someone who is both a near-stranger and her husband, someone she's only learning the most basic things about one night and huddling up against for warmth the next.

Raven quickly helps Dee feed the horses, the two of them working in quiet tandem, then heads over to the fireplace to grab something to eat – where Roan is sitting, deep in conversation with Clarke and Bellamy. She sits next to Monty and lets him catch her up on what they're debating: It seems that Clarke got the information on the bunker from an Ark database, which means the map it appears on is a hundred years old and it won't be easy to pinpoint the bunker's exact location.

In the end, it's decided that teams will head out in different directions, with Monty and Raven heading the teams with the biggest chance of finding the bunker. That way, the people who actually know what to look for can get right to work. If one of the other teams finds something, they're supposed to try and radio her and Monty and give them the location. Of course, the reception is patchy here and there's no guarantee they will actually be able to reach each other, in which case they will all meet up again at camp before nightfall – a simple enough plan.

And yet Roan, Raven notices, seems uneasy. He straps every piece of his well-stocked arsenal of weapons to his body as if expecting an attack, and there's not even a discussion about the fact that he'll be the one riding with Raven, and his best warrior will accompany them instead of someone from Skaikru. Bellamy looks ready to protest the notion, but Raven shakes her head and follows Roan to their horses. She won't have a Skaikru babysitter forever. Might as well get used to it.

Despite Roan's nervousness, all is quiet as they trek through the frost-pale forest. The quiet used to get to her at first, the sudden absence of the background noises that were everpresent on the Ark and that Raven liked to surround herself with in Arkadia as well: The hum of machines, the hiss and gurgle of the ancient piping and filtration systems, the whirr and clatter of her tools as she works. Since they left Arkadia, all of that is gone, replaced instead with different, much less familiar sounds. Animal noises, cracking twigs, howling wind, tall trees groaning under the weight of their branches.... Raven, who can detect a faulty part by its sound alone, is completely lost to the language of the forest.

But perhaps that will change in time, she thinks with unusual optimism, refusing to let Roan's persisting unease cloud her anticipation.

Her faith is actually rewarded when, after about two hours of riding, they find an overgrown entry-hatch near a crumpled and ruined set of buildings.

Raven slips off her horse before Roan has even made it off his, taking a chance on the soft ground as she lowers herself a little and then drops the rest of the way down, the pain in her leg drowned out by the rush of excitement. This inconspicuous, near-invisible hatch may hold the key components to the vague plan she and Monty have come up with to potentially take out the nuclear reactor threatening Azgeda territory.

Of course, its lid is stuck, rusted shut and distorted with age, but some scraping with a knife and their combined efforts eventually get it open, and Raven already has her feet down the hatch when Roan holds her back.

“We should alert the others first, tell them we've found it and wait for them until we get down. We don't know what it looks like down there.”

“But we do!” Raven can barely contain her excitement, which is probably the only reason she's not snapping at Roan right now. “Clarke showed us the blueprints, I'm sure we can navigate from that. It didn't look too complex.”

Roan looks back and forth between her hopeful face and the dark hatch, clearly reluctant, and now Raven's excitement does give way to a hint of irritation. If he thinks she's going to sit around and wait for the others for god knows how long instead of diving into the potential treasures of the place, he needs to have some bolts tightened in his head.

“We don't even know if there's anything good down there. Why make them all trek out here for nothing?”

It's a valid argument, though Raven couldn't care less about what the others do right now – her mind has switched into single-track mode, and its sole focus is the thought that somewhere down there might be the tiny bit of tech that helps her save all of humanity. And for once, Roan gives in without prolonging the argument.

“Alright. But I'm going in first. And you,” he turns to the warrior accompanying them, “stand watch outside and alert us if anyone's coming.”

Raven only takes the time to radio Monty and give him the coordinates of their find before she all but pushes Roan down the hatch, scrambling after him so fast she almost falls off the ladder.

Clarke kept the tablet with the blueprints, so they have to navigate on memory, and Roan insists on very carefully checking each and every room before they enter, though she's not sure what kinds of danger exactly he's expecting – the hatch clearly hasn't been opened in a long time. By the time Roan is done clearing the handful of rooms, Raven is about to burst with anticipation, and starts rifling through the shelves and cupboard without another word.

Unlike the underground shelter she's visited with Clarke, this one wasn't built for private use. It belonged to a research facility, the ruins of which they passed by above ground. It seems likely that the bunker was used for storage and protection while the more dangerous practical experiments went on at the above-ground facility – a factor that plays right into their hands now, as it means that the shelves are still full of useful stuff.

Raven grabs everything she recognizes which is either in good condition or seems easy to repair and simply hands it to Roan, who is trailing along after her. By the time they've worked their way back from the room at the very back of the bunker to the one where they entered it, Roan is barely visible under the pile of parts and gadgets she's heaped into his arms.

And that is the exact moment five grounder warriors in full warpaint drop down the ladder, advancing on them with swords and axes drawn.

Roan drops her precious finds with a clatter that makes her wince and draws his sword as well, displaying quick reflexes while Raven freezes completely.

Panic grips her and makes her limbs feel numb and boneless. But there's anger too, and a frantic desperation she didn't know she was still capable of after everything they've all been through. And those she clings to as she scrambles to keep her wits together and take stock of her options. Her very limited options: She can't let the attackers kill her and leave her people to a slow, gruesome death by radiation poisoning. She can't return without Roan and invite the Ice Nation's retribution. And she most definitely can't watch another of her futures die before her eyes.

She's going to have to fight her way out of this, she decides. Roan seems to come to the same conclusion at that moment, because he raises his sword and actually runs _towards_ the attackers, launching himself at them with a feral roar. 

Raven can only stand in place and watch for a few moments, mesmerized by the spectacle before her. Because, she realises in that moment, she's never actually seen the King of Azgeda fight before.

She's heard of his skills, since Clarke told her how he almost defeated Lexa at Polis, but she's never witnessed them in person and, well, it's quite a sight. His style fits with his usual bearing: graceful, contained, and in full control of the situation. But underneath that steely composure is strength, agility and, she notices when one of the attackers makes a move towards her and his eyes flash, a terrifying rage.

"Raven, get out of here!"

Only now does Raven understand what he's been doing: Roan is pushing the attackers back towards the far wall, clearing a path for her to get to the hatch door. She doesn't like the idea of abandoning him here, but considering that he's outnumbered, Roan is holding his own pretty well - for now. But he'll tire eventually, and if she can't help him herself, she needs to find the others, get help…

She's almost at the exit when she sees it: the very piece of vital tech she's so far failed to find, just sitting on a shelf a few meters to her left. Looking back, she assures herself that Roan is still successfully fending off their attackers, then darts over there as fast as her leg allows. She can reach it with some effort, but the damn thing is stuck, and just as she's wrenched the metal box free, one of the hostile grounders breaks away from the group battling Roan and stalks towards her.

She tries to get to the ladder, but of course her pursuer is faster. She can already hear his footsteps behind her, and without thinking, Raven grabs the heavy metal box firmly in both hands, swings around, and rams it straight at the grounder's head.

There's a sickening crack and he goes down, a pool of blood growing rapidly around his head.

Clutching her new possession with trembling hands, Raven stares down at the morbid sight for a long moment, wondering if she's ever killed anyone up close like this.

"Raven! Go!" Roan roars, and his voice gives her the push she needs.

She clambers up the ladder as fast as possible, her stomach churning at the sight of the guard Roan has posted. The Azgeda warrior is sprawled out near the entrance, blood still trickling from his slit neck but his eyes already glassed over. For a moment she wishes Bellamy had been here with his automatic rifle, then she's glad he wasn't.

Tearing her eyes away from the dead warrior, Raven looks around instead, hoping against hope to find some trace of the other teams, of someone who can help them. But there's nothing but empty, silent woods surrounding her, and she's pretty sure just blindly walking into the direction where she suspects the others would not be very successful.

She turns back to the Azgeda warrior instead. Like all their grounder companions, he's carrying a whole armoury on his body, and Raven quickly grabs two of his knives and the sword that has fallen from his hand, then determinedly climbs back into the bunker.

Not a moment too late, she finds: Roan is still standing, but the remaining three grounders have cornered him and are slowly but surely closing in, limiting his space and making it more and more difficult for him to parry their attacks.

She picks the one closest to her and, before she can overthink it, buries the sword in his back. He howls in pain and whirls around, his own curved sword swinging wildly at her. Raven stumbles back and the blade misses her face by a hair's breadth, then raises one of her knives in a pitiful attempt to defend herself. She never has to: before the injured grounder can take more than one step towards her, Roan has bent low and swiped his sword across the back of the man's legs, causing him to fall to his knees with an anguished cry.

Raven may not have brought the attacker down herself, but her intervention gives Roan the space he needs to free himself from the corner and unleash his full power on his opponents. Within just a few heartbeats, all of their attackers are down.

In the sudden silence, Roan's angry voice rings out like a gunshot.

"Which part of "get out!" did you not understand?"

He steps around the defeated grounders to stand before her, eyes flashing and mouth a grim, tight line.

It's an impressive sight, but Raven won't be cowed by it. 

"The part where it meant leaving you to die."

"I had things under control!"

Raven snorts. "Yeah, sure."

She says it lightly, sarcasm dripping from every word, and for a moment Roan looks like he wants to yell at her some more. But her voice is thin under the hard veneer, and her muscles are too tight, her hands clutching the knife so hard that her knuckles are aching with the pressure - and Roan notices all of it, takes it all in with one quick sweep of the eye and understands in even less time.

His expression softens as he reaches out, slowly as if scared to startle her, and closes his hand around hers. He pries her fingers off the knife's handle one by one, gently stroking the stiffness out of them until she lets go and the weapon clatters to the floor.

"Let's go.“

“They killed our guard.”

“I figured. They would not have gotten past otherwise.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I wanted to go in without waiting for the others.”

“And if we had waited for the others, there's a chance they might be dead too."

Raven isn't so sure about that, but she appreciates his efforts to stop her from taking all the blame herself. With a deep breath, she resolves to pull herself together, at least long enough for them to gather their finds and make it safely back to camp.

***

 

Luckily, their horses are still where they left them, tied to a nearby tree, and together, they hoist the dead grounder warrior up onto his horse to bring him back to the camp for a funeral.

There's a certain amount of debate over the ceremony for the funeral: If more people are following them than the small group Roan and Raven faced at the bunker, perhaps waiting for another chance to attack, then burning the body might give away their location. Then again, they're too big a group to travel quietly and without leaving traces, and the attack indicates that they've already been found.

In the end, Clarke supports Roan's wish for a funeral by fire. A diplomatic decision, Raven is sure, but the shadow crossing Clarke's face reminds her that she knows the value of getting to say goodbye – they all do.

Together they collect wood and build a tall pyre, Skaikru and Azgeda working hand in hand, and Bellamy helps Roan lift up the body once they've finished. Miller, Harper and Jasper have volunteered to guard the camp so that the Ice Nation warriors can say their goodbyes, and everyone else is gathered around the fire as Roan, Dee, and another Azgeda woman each say a few words.

Raven doesn't know nearly enough Azgedasleng to understand them, so she makes a mental list of the few things she knows about the dead man before them. It's not much, because he usually rode in the reargurd while Roan asked her to stay in the middle of their group, shielded from potential attackers. At least she finally remembered his name: Hudson. He wasn't much older than her, the youngest of Roan's warriors and the liveliest by far. He seemed to be getting on well with the Sky People; she saw him watch and listen with rapt attention as Bellamy took apart and explained his gun the other night, and she's pretty sure he had something to do with the impromptu knife-throwing tournament that took place a few nights ago and almost cost Jasper an eye.

That's all she knows of the man they're laying to rest now, but she's sure the Azgeda warriors around her can contribute more, and will feel his death more keenly too. She wonders how well Roan knew him, how often he's done this before. She can't really imagine what he must feel like right now. Raven herself is worn thin from the emotional up and down of the day: The swoop of relief at finding useful tech at the bunker, terror at being attacked, a brief thrill at finding herself alive at the end of it, followed by horror when she looked at the blood on her hands. And now, on top of all that, the burden of a life given to protect her. She doesn't doubt that it will weigh even more heavily on Roan, and Raven wonders: Does it ever get less difficult, having people die for you? Will she be standing in his place someday, giving last honours to one of her subjects? Should she be standing there _now_?

Nothing about Roan gives an answer to her questions: His back is straight, unbowed by grief, his face stone-smooth and expressionless. The only thing she can glean fom watching him is that his position seems to be a lonely one. Because even when the small group of Azgedans is united in grief, Roan is still farthest from everyone else, still separated from them by just a few steps more.

And before the thought has fully formed in her head, Raven has stepped up to his side and slipped her arm through his, eyes firmly forward so she doesn't have to take in anyone's surprised reaction. The few seconds she waits for him to push her away feel like an eternity, ringing with doubtful questions: What if he prefers to grieve alone, and doesn't want her by his side right now? What if her attempt at support makes him look weak in the eyes of his warriors? After all, she still knows so little about the Ice Nation's way of life – perhaps grief is meant to be carried alone according to their hard traditions.

But Roan doesn't distance himself from her, and Raven reminds herself of the thing she's learned most painfully, the thing Finn taught her when he stepped into her life back on the Ark: That everything bad is easier to bear with someone by her side. And after all, that was part of the deal for this marriage, wasn't it? It's not supposed to be just for show. Eventually, their alliance is supposed to turn into a real bond, whatever its exact nature. Why not build on that bond now, the way they've been doing ever since they started on this journey?

When Roan lifts his torch to light the kindling stuffed in between the logs, Raven curls her hand around his arm and squeezes lightly. The fire flares up, and Roan breathes out on a trembling sigh – the only sign that the moment is getting to him, though quiet enough that only she can hear it.

The ceremony is over after that, but most of those gathered stay to watch the pyre burn down, braving the acrid smell of burning flesh and the heat emanating from the fire. Eventually, the remaining Arkadians leave to prepare some food for the night, and when the body has burned down to nothing more than ashes and bones, the Ice Nation warriors turn away from the fire to join them. Roan and Raven are the last ones left, Raven's leg starting to cramp again from being on her feet for so long, when Roan turns his head to look at her.

“Thank you.”

Raven doesn't know what to say, doesn't really want his gratitude in the first place. Really, offering some quiet support was the least she could do.

“I hate earth funerals.” Her voice is too blasé for the truth behind the words: That she hates them because they're so inescapable; an assault on all senses. On the Ark, saying goodbye to someone meant pushing the button to open the airlock and they were gone, with no trace left behind. But watching a body actually disintegrate before her eyes, with the smell making her gag, the smoke irritating her eyes and the heat of the fire licking at her skin – that's a different experience altogether, one that is hard to forget. She thinks of Finn more than once as they wait, of his bright life and dark end, and although Finn has gradually faded to a memory over the past months, the pain of losing him is still the easiest thing to remember.

When Roan finally turns and leads her away from the dying fire, Raven sags with relief.

She doesn't linger outside much longer, just long enough to grab some salted meat and protein cubes, a strange but nourishing mixture of Skaikru and Azgeda cuisine. Roan stays behind by the campfire, talking quietly to an ashen-faced warrior who sems to take Hudson's death worse than the other Ice Nation members of their group – perhaps they were close friends or even related to each other?

She doesn't hear Roan get into the tent, but when she briefly wakes up in the middle of the night, he's lying right next to her the way he did last night, with his coat once again draped over both of them.

And because death still seems to be lingering in her bones, cold and heavy, Raven scoots closer to him, drapes one arm over his torso and the other around his shoulder, and lays her head on his chest, too sleep-dazed to overthink the decision.

Just before she falls asleep again, she feels his body turn slighty towards her, his hand coming to rest on her arm.

They may still smell of smoke and death. But for a few quiet hours at least, they're safe.

 


	6. Chapter 6

A few short days of hard riding later, they finally reach the first Azgeda settlement: A small trading outpost, manned only by a handful of people but frequented by everyone travelling south from the Stronghold. Roan seems downright excited when they approach it, a strange new look for him but one Raven decides she likes - especially since her own feelings on approaching the first people in the territory she's supposed to rule over are much closer to dread than anticipation.

Soon, she finds out why. As they ride up to the first and largest of a number of low sheds erected around the ruins of an old stone building, a group of people steps out to greet them: An old woman, stooped and grizzled, flanked by two large, brawny warriors whose eyes are scanning the group watchfully - personal guards no doubt, because everything about the woman's bearing makes it clear that she's in charge here. Her hair may be white as snow and and her dark skin lined with wrinkles, but her steps are firm and energetic, and the wide smile on her face makes her look almost girlish.

“Roan!” She exclaims, opening her arms in greeting – and the man in question strides forward and picks her up in a bear hug.

Raven comes to a stop a few steps behind them, Dee on her left side and Clarke on her right. They've actually discussed this during their last short break on the trip here: How to introduce the Azgeda to their new queen? Roan assured her that the woman running the trading post was an old friend of his and would welcome them with open arms, but in the end, Raven still dediced to stay in the background until Roan has broken the news and gauged everyone's reactions. This, now, is their trial run.

Of course, Raven can't understand what Roan and the woman are saying, because as soon as Roan sets her back on her feet, the two of them start talking in rapid Azgedasleng. But that's what Dee is here for: Leaning in close, she translates the gist of what is being said. For the most part, the meeting is one of two old friends who haven't seen each other in a long time, with a great deal of maternal fussing thrown in that makes Raven wonder if the old woman is related to Roan somehow. From her position, Raven watches attentively for any changes in the old woman's expression when Roan brings up the issue of his new wife.

There's a short moment of shock, a question, then Roan says Raven's name and points towards her. The old woman's eyes flicker over to her, and Raven holds her head high and meets the assessing gaze with a steady one of her own. After a few seconds of this, the woman returns her attention to Roan. This time, Raven can make out one word when she speaks next: “Skaikru”.

“She asked him why he went to Skaikru for a wife. She says she would have found him a good, Azgeda queen if she knew he was looking for one,” Dee whispers into her ear, and Raven suppresses a snort. Someone else might have censored out that bit, softened the blow at least, but not Dee. Raven is grateful about it – at least she knows where she stands.

“Charming,” Raven mutters under her breath, but forces herself to keep smiling – and is rewarded for her unusual restraint when Roan supports her against their sceptical host.

“Now, let's stick to English so our friends can understand us,” Roan says jovially, but no one around would make the mistake of taking it as anything other than an order.

“Of course. I should not have expected your wife to know Azgedasleng.” The old woman's voice suggests that that's exactly what she expected, and despite the less-than-warm welcome, Raven finds herself a little bit impressed. It takes guts to be so subtly but unmistakeably defiant to someone like Roan.

Still, she's not going to let the old witch walk all over her like that.

Smiling with fake sweetness, Raven steps up to Roan's side. She curls one hand over his arm, an innocently possessive gesture, then extends the other in greeting and says in halting but correct Azgedasleng:

“Its a difficult language, but I'm getting a little better every day.”

The woman's eyes widen, and while her handshake is as excruciatingly firm as Raven expected it to be, there's a hint of recognition sneaking into her eyes, from one strong-willed woman to another.

“I'm sure I'll have more time to practice once I've dealt with our current crisis and we're returning to the Stronghold,” Raven adds, and is confident that her message came across loud and clear: This Skaikru queen is too busy saving everyone's asses to worry about offending Azgeda sensibilities.

“Yes,” the older woman says, her gaze resting assessingly on her, “I'm sure you will. Now,” she claps her hands energetically and turns towards the rest of the group, “let's get you inside to warm up. I've prepared a little something to eat.”

_A little something_ turns out to be a veritable feast: Fresh fire-roasted venison and stuffed poultry of some kind and crispy bread and a whole lot of things Raven has never tasted before in her life. She wonders, briefly, for whose benefit it is: Is the woman trying to impress her king or her guests? The former seems more likely. Then she decides she really doesn't care because this is the best meal she's ever had.

The trading post doesn't have enough space inside to house them all, since the sheds are used for storage, and only the front part of the old building it's housed in is still intact. Further back, the house's roof has long since collapsed and there are holes in its crumbling walls. The rooms have been cleared of the debris, however, and there's an improvised roof that keeps out the snow. They still have to sleep inside their tents, but they're considerably more sheltered from the wind and the dropping temperatures than they were the night before.

Semi-protected from the elements as they are, it's not technically necessary to scoot closer to Roan that night, or for him to pull her against him in response. But necessary or not, she's been getting used to sleeping like this the past few nights, and usually, she falls asleep before she has time to dwell on the intimacy of the position.

Tonight, things are different: With her stomach full of something more than thin stew for once and the protection of the tent increased by walls and a roof, however crumbling and makeshift, it's all too easy to turn her attention to other needs - needs she hasn't really had much time to dwell on. But now, in the darkness and relative warmth of their tent, Raven finds her sleepy mind taking stock of every point where their bodies are touching, even if there are still layers of clothing between them – and she suddenly remembers that, as husband and wife, they should have better reasons to sleep like this than warding off the cold.

But of course, that's not the kind of marriage this is, not by a long shot – and those are not the kinds of thoughts she should be harbouring about her ally the night before they reach the power plant, the night before she finds out if she'll have a shot at saving humanity or not.

With a huff, Raven turns away from him, curling up on her side and suddenly feeling cold despite the blankets piled on her. So she scoots back again just a little bit, just so her back is pressed against Roan's side – and when he turns on his side to curl around her and pull her against his chest with one heavy arm around her waist, Raven doesn't shift away again.

She's going to save the world. She can allow herself this one little moment of weakness.

 

***

Raven sleeps like a baby, and when she awakes, the old lady has prepared a breakfast to rival their welcome dinner. When they sit down to eat, however, Raven notices a new addition to their group: a middle-aged woman and a teenaged girl.

The girl, for her part, surprises Raven by jumping on her as soon as she enters the courtyard where they're having breakfast. The sight of some unknown grounder launching herself towards her startles her so much she almost goes for the dagger Roan gave her a while back, and for a moment Raven wonders if she'll ever stop being so paranoid.

But the girl's voice when she addresses them is friendly enough, her expression positively ecstatic.

"You're the Powakipa! The new Queen!" Then, as if registering her words only now, the girl's smile freezes as she quickly and deeply bows before them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast."

"But you did. I should put you to death by a thousand cuts," Roan growls beside her, and Raven is ready to jump down his throat when she turns her head and sees the smile tugging at his lips.

Raven freezes mid-chew, staring at her somber husband as if he'd grown a second head. Is Roan... joking around?

It seems he is, because there's a mischievous twinkle in those icy eyes when he addresses the girl once more.

"But since I don't want to scare my Skaikru wife, I'll let it slide just this once."

"Oh, please, don't hold back on my account." Raven smiles slyly, and sees Roan stifle a grin of his own.

"Well, if my Queen wishes it, I'll have the disobedient girl beheaded straightaway."

The poor girl looks white as a sheet by now, and Raven is about to take pity on her when a woman's voice rings out sharply in Azgedasleng. Raven whips around to see the woman she saw with the girl earlier approaching them, her dark eyes narrowed coolly, every muscle in her toned, strong body moving with the graceful power of a big cat. Raven can't possibly understand her rapid-fire Azgedasleng, but from the change in her inflection and the smile on her starkly beautiful face, she gathers that Roan and the woman know each other.

The thing she can't quite figure out, however, is  _how_. Roan's voice is echoing the woman's jovial tone, but the smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes, not the way it did when he greeted the old woman last night, and there's a tension in his body that she can feel where their knees are touching, and which she knows by now means danger.

It's all really puzzling, and Raven's never had the patience for those kinds of puzzles. If anything, Roan is the one who thrives on watching other people, deciphering their weaknesses at a glance.

Luckily, a distraction presents itself just then, as the girl has apparently overcome her fear and addresses her once more, unable to contain her curiosity.

"Is it true you were the one who made it through Mount Weather's defenses?"

Raven nods slowly, not sure where this is going, but the hesitant gesture seems to be enough for the girls to lose all traces of shyness.

"They say you blew up a dam to get in there, and a bridge too, with nothing but a bit of fuel. They say you can build anything out of just a bit of scrap metal. That you're a genius."

Beside the girl, her mother watches the exchange warily, eyes raking up and down Raven's form and stuttering briefly at her brace. She knows by now what this means: She's being judged, weighed and measured and probably about to be found wanting - which just makes her all the more eager to prove the other person wrong. But this time, she doesn't rise to the bait. She has one grounder firmly on her side, after all. 

"That I am. You interested in mechanics?" She asks it more out of politeness than anything, but the girl nods with endearing earnestness.

"I am. I mean, we don't have a lot of machines and such but," she leans forward and lowers her voice, and Raven understands she's being entrusted with a secret, "whenever someone brings Nan old electronics, she lets me go through them. I've been trying to fix some of them."

"Any success so far?"

"Not really."

"Want me to take a look at it?"

She can actually see the girl's breath catch, as if she can't quite believe her luck.

"Oh, would you?"

"Of course." Raven gets to her feet, her sleep-stiff joints aching in protest. "There's nothing I'd like more. Lead the way."

She can still feel the woman's eyes on her as they walk away, but neither she nor Roan protest.

The girl's treasure hoard turns out to be a bunch of randomly assorted, mostly useless junk. But with a little help, some of the items might be turned into something useful after all - at lest after they've been thoroughly disembowelled.

With a nod of permission from the girl, who introduces herself as Portia on the short trip to one of the storage sheds, Raven gets to work. She sorts through the pile, pulling out pieces that are still in salvageable condition, and explaining to Portia what they might be used for as she goes. The girl follows her every word with wide eyes and eager nods, and Raven thinks fondly that she must have looked the same way as a little girl back on the Ark, when Nigel figured out her knack for fixing things and let her work on her black market gadgets in exchange for a few rations.

Eventually, Raven even finds some spare parts that may come in handy in her current project. Portia gifts them to her without a moment's hesitation, and luckily, Raven even finds something to repay her kindness: An old music player, dented and scratched but in pristine condition inside. All it needs is a power source, and Raven thinks she saw some solar panels stashed in the corner of the main room the might easily be set up to provide the trading post with power on clear days.

She keeps that knowledge to herself and pockets the mp3-player, deciding to wait until she's actually figured out a way to get it to work before she tells Portia what it does. They turn to one of the other items instead, a chainsaw that seems easy enough to fix - and could actually be put to use: probably manufactured after the great petrol crisis of 2030, it's solar powered instead of running on gas.

Before long, the chainsaw has been taken apart on the table Raven has turned into a makeshift workbench, and she and Portia are so focused on their repairwork that they don't even hear the door open, or the two sets of footsteps approaching - which is why when a pair of arms snakes around her from behind, Raven jumps, shrieks, and almost elbows her attacker in the ribs.

Luckily, she understands what's actually happening just in time - at least, part of it. Her presumed attacker is none other than Roan, come up to embrace her from behind and press a soft kiss to her temple. What she's not entirely sure of is the question of why he's doing these things, but she decides to follow his lead and figure it out later.

"I'm sorry, my skaigona, I startled you. I should know by now not to disturb you when you're working."

Raven still isn't entirely sure what's going on, but she dimly remembers them taking about displaying some intimacy, and from the way Portia's mother watches their every move, she quickly figures out that this show is for her benefit.

She relaxes into Roan's arms and lets her head fall back against his shoulder with a smile.

"You should, or you'll get your eye poked out with a screwdriver someday."

"I'll try and remember that," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I just can't help myself sometimes."

And while Raven is still processing that apparently this is what King Roan flirting with his wife sounds like ( _super cheesy!_ ), he kisses her again. This time, however, his lips find the place where her pulse is racing under the sensitive skin, just calming down as she recovers from her surprise - and immediately speeding up to a gallop again at his caress. It should be impossible, Raven thinks: not even a man as intense as him should be able to plunge her mind and body into chaos like this. And yet, as his sensuous touch lingers for longer than seems altogether necessary (or, for that matter, survivable), everything inside her tightens, whether with panic or desire she's not entirely sure. She can practically feel her body being torn between fleeing - or staying to melt into his arms and stay there forever.

In the end, she does neither; her mind subdues her body as it always does.

She turns her head slightly, snuffing out the flash of regret when it causes Roan to pull back a little bit too, and smiles saucily.

"I know. But there are kids watching."

With a chuckle, Roan takes another step away from her to stand by her side instead of at her back, although his right arm keeps resting possessively on her waist, pulling her into his side and shielding her from the woman at the same time. Her indulgent smile does nothing to offset the cold, hard glint of her eyes, but there's a trace of doubt on the woman's expression that makes Raven hope that she bought their little show of affection.

“We need to get going anyway if we want to make it to our destination and back.”

And with that one sentence, all thoughts of what it might be like if they weren't just snuggling up for an audience are gone from Raven's mind.

This is what they came here for: to take a look at the ancient relic that might destroy them all – and to figure out a way to destroy it.

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it is OC's galore in this chapter! I don't usually create OCs, but in this case I had to - there just aren't enough Azgeda characters to populate this story yet. The same goes for the language, so I used one Trikru word and one made-up one: "Skaigona" means bird of prey, "Powakipa" is my own attempt at a nickname for Raven, derived from "power keeper".  
> Oh, and of course, we've also finally visited a staple of the fake married-trope: Faking some sort of affection to prove the relationship is real. And, of course, more sleeping snuggled up against each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The science in this was only very loosely researched. But I figure, if the show gets away with simply inventing a plot-convenient 100 year-failsafe against nuclear attacks, I can get away with a little deus ex machina (via Raven).
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter – it feels unevenly paced and sort of back-and-forth, but it needed to happen, so here we are.

 

After setting out together, they quickly split up again to swarm out in different directions. In light of what happened at the bunker, both Roan and Bellamy decide in unison to divide them into larger groups this time, so that it's always five people sticking together.

As they trot quietly across the snow-covered plains, Raven seizes the opportunity to address the questions that have been running through her head all morning.

"That woman..."

"Lore?"

Raven shrugs - it's not like the woman introduced herself. "I guess – Portia's mother. What's your history with her?"

"We were friends."

Just friends? Raven wonders but doesn't ask. She repeats his own choice of words instead:

“ _Were_?”

“You'll notice that she escaped my mother's revenge. I suspect it's because she tipped her off, gave her names in exchange for her life. The last good thing she did was get my sister out of the stronghold to keep her safe until my mother no longer suspected her of being a traitor too. After that, she managed to worm her way into my mother's trust, which means I'm probably better off not trusting her on anything.”

“But you're making her think you are.”

“She holds a lot of influence with many of my people, I'd be stupid to openly antagonize her. But I'm sure she's already planning ways to undermine me – or, more likely, to undermine you. I have a feeling she'd like your title for herself.”

“Oh.” Raven takes a moment to ponder this: She didn't just marry into an unknown, so far hostile people - she married into a people whose entire power structure has just been upended, with the remaining factions fighting for control, and she's at the center of it all. But then, she could have realised that days earlier, she just didn't want to think about the fact that she's fighting on more than one front. Perhaps that's something she should change, no matter how much she prefers tackling her problems one at a time.

“You think she has something to do with the men who attacked us at the bunker?”

“It's possible. Either way, we have to convince her, and everyone else who tries to oppose us, that our marriage is real and strong. It will make it harder for her to discredit it as a political misstep.”

“I see.”

He looks over at her now, a hint of uncertainty on his face.

“I know we haven't discussed this in detail...”

“I'll manage,” Raven cuts him off, and smiles reassuringly. What choice does she have, anyway? If people at his court are working against her, it's in her best interest to play along. Besides, well, being flirted at by a passably attractive man (yeah, right, passable - that's the appropriate word here!) is not the worst thing she's had to do for survival.

Before her mind can get stuck on the thought, Raven and plows on, irritated at her treacherous thoughts for distracting her from the conversation. She zeroes in on one of his earlier remarks instead.

“You have a sister?”

Roan nods. "Yes." He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world, and it takes Raven an astonished moment to realise that, for him, it is.

"What's that like?"

If Roan considers this a strange question, his face doesn't show. Instead, his expression softens. "It means that most of the time you're either worried about someone, or angry."

"You sound like Bellamy."

Roan's badly disguised grimace has got to be the funniest thing Raven has seen in a long time. Before she can stop it, her laughter rings out across the quiet landscape, startling a nearby flock of birds. They take flight towards the wan sun, the confused gaggle instinctively sorting itself into a formation that manages to be beautiful and functional at the same time. Raven follows the birds with her eyes, listening as the sound of their rustling wings fades and enjoying the aftertaste of her laughter.

When she returns her attention to Roan, she finds him watching her, that strange and slightly out of place softness on his face again that she's spotted there before, if only rarely.

But before she can use the moment of levity and Roan's apparent mood for sharing to find out more about that sister of his, the radio at her side crackles. Clarke and Bellamy's group have found the power plant – and from the way Clarke's voice trembles over the radio, it's in bad shape.

The short trip to the coordinates Clarke dictates through the radio is tense and silent, and as the read-out of their Geiger counter shows the radiation levels rising with every step they take, Raven struggles not to let her mind run away with thoughts of what will be waiting for her at the power plant.

It certainly doesn't look good.

Not only is the whole building overgrown and crumbling, but there's a crack running down the length of the cooling tower, and small electrical fires are already licking at the bottom of the buildings. She doesn't even want to imagine the state of the fuel rods inside.

Raven is still busy taking it all in before Roan raises his voice.

“Listen up! From now on, everyone listens to Raven and Monty. They tell us what to do, we do it.”

There are nods of assent all around the group, and Raven exchanges a quick look with Monty before she addresses them too.

“We need to put those fires out first, then clear a path to the control room and the containment unit so Monty and I can check it out."

Armed with blankets they smother the fires one by one, then find an entrance and pry it open. Even with the fires put out, the heat in the area is oppressive, getting worse with every step they take towards the containment unit, and the Geiger counter readings are dangerously high. They've braved similar and higher radiation levels before, of course, but when Miller finds a changing room full of old radiation suits, some still in good condition, Raven feels a little bit better about venturing into the heart of the unit.

For now, only Monty comes with her while the others scout the area, and an hour later, she's all too happy about that decision. Because for all the damage they saw outside, Raven comes up against a roadblock she didn't expect: She can't figure out what exactly the damage is.

The reactor containment unit is still intact, which is a good thing, but it doesn't mean that a meltdown hasn't begun inside it anyway. The heat could be a sign, but it could also simply be decay heat from a reactor that hasn't produced nuclear fission in decades. In either case, it's dangerous.

But what really drives her crazy is that she can't come up with a plan if she doesn't know what she's dealing with yet.

And as she's standing in the middle of the control room contemplating this dilemma, something very, very scary happens: For the first time in her life, Raven looks at a problem and has no idea how to solve it. Usually, at this point, she'd at least have tiny seeds of ideas forming in her mind. Even if most of them turn out to be impossible, there are still always, _always_ ideas in her head. Right now, there's nothing but silence.

She mumbles something about needing fresh air and throws herself outside, leaving Monty behind as he keeps looking around the room, trying to find access to the computers so they can see how bad the damage is. She knows what he's thinking: The system probably powered down when the emergency generators ran out of gas, but perhaps there's a way to get them going again if they manage to provide an alternative energy source. Raven isn't so sure that alone will help – even if the fuel rods haven't melted down yet, even if they manage to induce the reaction that will stop nuclear fission inside the rods, they will still need to be cooled down for a long time.

There are too many ifs, too many challenges piled on top of each other, each one next to insurmountable on its own. Raven feels bile rise inside her throat and her vision start to blur, and she sinks down on the concrete steps leading down from the control room to the ground. Swallowing down the bitter taste in her throat, she lets her head fall against the handrail next to her and just breathes.

“Raven?”

Monty has followed her outside and is sitting down next to her.

“You alright?.“

“I don't know what to do.”

“Well, we only just got here.”

“No, I mean I have no idea how to even find out what the problem is.”

“You'll figure it out. _We'll_ figure it out.” Monty's optimism remains unshakeable, but it does nothing to stop the rising tide of her panic.

“What if we don't? What if I can't figure out what to do? How do I even tell them?” She lifts her head to look at her friend, tears prickling unpleasantly at her eyes. “Clarke already feels responsible for this whole mess, if it turns out shutting down the City of Light meant leaving them all to die like this... It's going to destroy her.”

“We don't know if that's what it means. We haven't even started weighing our options here.”

“Exactly! Because my brain isn't working!”

“Look, Raven, no one expects you to have all the answers. All they ask is that you fight for them. And as far as I can remember, you've never backed down from a fight.”

“But how do I fight something when I don't even know _how_ it's going to attack me?”

“You don't think about that. You think about the people you're fighting for.” Monty sounds determined, strong where she feels weak, and she looks at him and wonders, not for the first time, if perhapse of all her brave, strong friends, he's the strongest. “And there's always someone left to fight for.”

With that, he gets to his feet and holds out his hand to help her up. It's a bit of a struggle, but Raven feels a little lighter than before when they head back to the others, her head a little clearer. They stop briefly at the changing room where they found the radiation suits, change back into their own thngs and pack every functioning or repairable suit carefully into boxes to take them along. Whatever happens next, they're going to need those.

The others are waiting for them outside with the horses, watching them approach with barely contained questions written on their faces, as if waiting to hear the jury's verdict at a hearing – as if Raven and Monty were the ones deciding which of them are going to live or die.

They share one last look, then Raven takes a deep breath and starts laying out the situation – what little she's sure about, at least.

When she's finished, the silence is deafening. But the anger she expected, braced herself for, isn't coming. No one is blaming her for the lack of clarity, no one is asking why she can't give them any absolute answers. In fact, no one is paying much attention to her at all, as everyone turns to someone else in their uncertainty.

Monty crosses eyes with Jasper and shares a grim little nod. Captain Miller lays a hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Clarke sags against Bellamy, almost imperceptibly, but Raven has a feeling that without him, she'd collapse.

And looking at them all, she realises Monty's right: After everything that happened, everyone they lost – there's still always someone left to fight for.

It's a strange realisation: Raven's been so used to her world consisting of just her and Finn, she finds it hard to conceive of the idea of a whole family. And yet, that's exactly what she sees when she looks around now. These people she was thrown in with when she went after Finn, they've become her family now, besieged by dangers and still somehow sticking around. Growing, even, to include new people: like Dee, like Portia back at the trading post, like Roan standing beside her quiet and steady as a rock. It's his presence in particular that makes her stay in place and continue speaking when everything inside her is screaming to run away as fast as she can, even if it isn't very fast at all.

“We don't know what to do yet. But we'll figure something out.”

Monty smiles at her and she feels her spine straighten, feels courage fill her once more. And when she looks over at Roan, there's a look on his face that makes her feel like not even a nuclear meltdown can bring her down. For a short moment, with Roan's eyes blazing with pride and her heart pumping with life, she feels invincible again.

She may be stranded in a place weighed down by gravity, but she's still the youngest Zero-G-mechanic in 52 years. She can handle this.

***

 

Someone has made a fire and cooked some meat to be eaten with this morning's bread while Raven and Monty were checking out the control room, and making plans is easier with a full stomach, they find. It's clear that they need to fire up the computers again, if only to see how bad the damage is. Raven hasn't even finished saying that they need the solar panels she saw at the trading post before Roan has sent out Jasper, Harper and two grounder warriors to go get them.

When Monty and Raven head back to the control room to prepare everything and see what might need repairing, they at least have a rudimentary plan:

  1. Repair computers and sensors, check current status.

  2. Determine what can be done.




Which, granted, isn't much of a plan – but it's better than nothing. She has steps to follow, which is always a plus.

Raven, Monty and Jasper, meanwhile, are running through possible scenarios. They may not have all the data yet, but they have the lay of the land, and that's a lot more than they had before.

They only grudgingly take a few hours' break to sleep, and only after Clarke all but orders them to. But they're up at dawn again the next day, and soon the little group they sent out returns with the solar panels.

To Raven's surprise, they're accompanied by Lore, the grounder woman Raven is already poised to look out for.

"I had an extra horse, and they needed all the help they can get to carry the panels." Her pragmatism is disarming, and Roan thanks her politely - although, Raven notices, once more without really smiling.

She doesn't really have time to waste much thought on the frosty Azgeda woman, however, because the panels need to be set up for recharge, some of them requiring repairs as well, and that keeps them busy all morning. While the panels are recharging, Monty and Raven get the computers in the control room ready, hoping and praying that the system will work.

Soon, she's almost forgotten about the new presence in their group, and the last thing she's in the mood for is playing make-believe for some judgmental grounder. But Roan seems to be handling Lore's observant looks pretty well on his own, and without keeping her from her work too. Helping out with heavy machinery here, laying a subtle hand on her lower back there, bringing her some bread and dried fruit and chastising gently that she needs to eat: Roan is every inch the devoted husband, and Raven doesn't have to do much to help him. She takes the proffered food with a saccharine smile, then brushes a grateful kiss across his cheek. But despite the falseness of the gesture, the scratch of stubble under her lips, the warmth of his steadying hand on her waist are both real, and both things she's acutely aware of, as is his little smile when she draws back that tells her she's doing good.

And the thing is, its really not much of a chore. Roan's attention is as supportive as it is unintrusive, and Raven thinks she could get used to this, if she ever gets the chance.

Before she can wonder what to do with that realisation, Jasper yells out that the solar panels have finished recharging. All they need to do now is connect them to the emergency batteries attached to the plant's computer system, and they're ready to get it to work.

What they're not ready for, however, is receiving unexpected good news.

Which is why, when Raven first sees the words "SCRAM sequence completed" on the screen before her, she doesn't really take in what it means. Until they get the sensors inside the containment chamber to work - and find that, as hot as it might be, the temperature is still much lower than it would be if the rods had gone into meltdown yet. (Not to mention the fact that they're all still alive, which is kind of a giveaway too.)

And looking back at the screen now, Raven remembers something she's read while researching the plants, laughs incredulously, and let's out a sharp, sudden whoop that makes all heads in the room turn towards her.

"They scrammed it!"

Which, judging by the expressions around her, doesn't really explain much.

"It's an old acronym for an emergency shutdown. They interrupted nuclear fission inside the rods."

"So that means...?" Clarke asks dubiously, clearly not trusting Raven's enthusiasm yet.

"It means we're not dealing with a complete meltdown after all. We just need to handle the afterheat."

"How do we do that?" Bellamy sounds like he's waiting for the next blow after this tentative good news.

"Easy." Raven's smile is all teeth and triumph. "We blow the whole thing up."

Watching the faces around her go from grave to incredulous to hesitantly relieved is a heartwarming spectacle, and Raven swallows hard as it sinks in: She actually has a shot at protecting her people.

Making plans is a rapid, joyful process after that: they'll look around if there's anything useful for building a bomb here, then scoop out the best spots to place it to make sure the building collapses the way it's supposed to.

Unfortunately, finding explosive materials around the plant proves impossible, which speaks to their safety precautions but doesn't make Raven's job any easier.

In the end, it's Bellamy who gets them on the right track when he stops mid-movement to stare at Lore.

"The assassin who blew up Mount Weather was Azgeda."

For a moment, Raven is confused by the unexpected train of thought, then she understands.

"Where did they get the parts for their bomb?" She finishes the thought.

But Lore remains all imperturbable innocence. "I don't know anything about that. Queen Nia was already on her way to the conclave when she came up with the idea."

"Now is not the time for politics, Lore. Tell us what you know." This time, there's no pretense at friendliness in Roan's voice.

"I don't know the details. But I was tasked to bring some chemicals from the trading post to the stronghold." She falters briefly after admitting her involvement, eyes roving from Monty's gasp to Bellamy's clenched fists. Raven doesn't buy her remorseful act for a second. "If there's more like them there, I can point them out. Old Marylen has a lot more stored there than she wants people to know."

"I'm gonna need to see what she's got," Raven decides.

Minutes later, they're on their way back to the trading post. Most of the group stay at the plant to keep an eye on things and guard the solar panels and other materials they've brought. Apart from Monty, Roan only lets Dee and Miller come with them - a pair of guards chosen for their loyalty as much as their skills, Raven guesses.

They travel at a punishing pace, and while Raven has trouble making it off her horse during the few short breaks, she finds it completely impossible to do so when they finally arrive at the trading post.

She can practically feel Lore's judgmental gaze on her when she slides down into Roans arms. But he gathers her close, gently so that her head rests against his shoulder almost without her having to do anything, and Raven gladly and cowardly takes the opportunity to hide behind the shield he's providing.

"I'm sorry about the hard pace. If I'd known it would put you in so much pain..."

"I don't mind. I want to check out what we've got to work with here, it was good we travelled fast."

Roan looks a little doubtful, but when Lore determinedly heads to one of the storage sheds, he follows without hesitation.

Inside, Roan sets her down on a table, and Lore starts rifling through the jars and boxes on the shelves. Occasionally, Raven spots something that might be helpful, and points it out, at which point Roan orders the woman to bring over whatever has caught Raven's attention. The flash of anger in the warrior's eyes at being ordered about like this completely makes up for Raven's earlier insecurity - not to mention the moment when they've actually managed to scrape together all the ingredients Raven needs to concoct a powerful explosive. When Lore holds out the last such item, a neatly labelled jar of much-needed potassium perchlorate, Raven almost jumps off the table in her eagerness to inspect it.

"Easy," Roan admonishes, holding out a hand to stop her and bringing the jar to her himself.

In her excitement, Raven doesn't even notice him stepping in between her legs when he hands over the jar, or the hand he puts on her braceless thigh as he waits for her to finish her inspection. Which makes it all the more startling when she lowers the jar to announce that it will do - and finds him right before her.

Later, she will try to tell herself she was aware of Lore watching them when she leans forward, pulls him close by the back of his neck and presses an exuberant kiss to his lips. But the truth is, Lore has nothing to do with the action; begun so impulsively that she can't remember actually _deciding_ to do it. She kisses him because she wants to, and because in that triumphant moment, it seems as natural and instinctive as the bright smile she gives him afterwards.

This time, it's him who's caught off guard, and the sight is as strange as it is satisfying. Roan looks positively dazed, and it takes a quick, hard pinch to his arm to tear him out of his stupor before Lore notices the odd moment. Raven grins and files the information away to mull it over when she's not busy building a bomb to save her world: After weeks of being caught off guard by him, Raven has finally managed to turn the tables.

"Alright then," Raven chirps, voice a little thinner than she'd like to, "let's get to bomb-building."

That stirs Roan back into action; he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You're way too tired, you could blow this whole place up. I'm not letting you handle explosives before you've had some rest."

The steel in his voice makes it clear that Raven won't be able to convince him otherwise – and for all her excitement, she knows he's probably right: Explosives and exhaustion don't mix. She lets him help her off the table instead, relieved when he lets her walk alone but keeps a hand around her waist. Her leg has been cramping almost nonstop since they got here, and she's not sure she can make even the short trip to the main house on her own.

With Roan's help, she manages, but sitting down is as welcome as it is excruciating, and not even the arrival of an excitedly chattering Portia manages to distract her completely from the cramps shooting down from her hip. When Marylen appears with bowls of some sort of grainy sludge, her hands are shaking so much she can barely spoon the savory mixture into her mouth, taking shallow breaths and gritting her teeth in between spoonfuls of food.

The fact that everyone in the room (with the exception of Portia, perhaps) seems to be aware of her predicament doesn't exactly make things better, but Raven refuses to excuse herself and go to bed just yet. Unexpectedly, however, the decision is taken away from her.

As soon as Raven has finished her bowl of sludge, the old woman whisks it out of her hands and sets it aside, then returns with a small glass jar filled with a greenish mixture. She holds it out to Roan, but nods at Raven as she commands:

“Your wife is in pain. Go help her.“

Roan takes the jar with a grateful nod, and the old woman continues: “I've prepared a room in the house for you. You'll have some privacy. It needs to be rubbed in, and then covered to let the warmth do its part.”

“What is it?” Raven asks, unwilling to let anyone do anything to her without knowing what exactly they're talking about here.

“It's a herbal paste that might help with the pain.”

With Lore in the room, Raven isn't exactly crazy about having her physical limitations discussed like this – but the idea of finding something to ease the all-encompassing ache quickly overpowers her embarrassment. She doesn't protest when Marylen shoos them out of the main room and towards a little chamber down the hall.

The room the old woman has prepared for them is small and cold, but there are four walls and a roof and, most importantly, there's an actual bed, just wide enough to comfortably sleep two persons, and covered in impossibly soft-looking furs and blankets. Raven sinks onto it with a sigh, no longer even caring if the old woman thinks her weak for it. But the old woman leaves the room without comment, and Raven is too busy struggling with her brace to wonder why Roan stays behind when she's more than capable of rubbing some ointment into her leg herself.

She soon understands, however: By the time she's managed to work off both her brace her and pants, her every muscle is screaming in protest, and Raven finds the prospect of sitting up again to apply the salve less than appealing.

“The salve is more effective if someone else applies it. I used to have a healer put it on me after brutal fights, or after a long sparring session.”

Recognizing the offer behind Roan's explanation, Raven nods weakly, then lets herself fall back on the bed again. She's done fighting for the day.

She doesn't mind Roan seeing her in her underwear, having changed in and out of space suits in front of enough people in her time on the Ark. Still, Raven flushes when he leans over her, rubbing his hands to warm them and cover the palms with the sharp-smelling paste, and then opts for closing her eyes when he gently lays his hands on her knee and the heat he just built up spreads across her skin.

Despite the soothing effect, however, when Roan starts to properly work the salve into her skin, the pain seems to intensify instead of abate, and Raven claws her nails into Roan's arm to get him to stop.

“I know it hurts. It always does at the beginning, when you're still tense. Try and relax, breath deeply, and it'll get better.”

Raven finds it hard to believe that, but to her surprise, Roan is right: Once he's worked his way up from her knee to the top of her thigh, the cramps slowly start to ease up, the salve leaving behind warmth even where his hands aren't touching her anymore, and her breaths are no longer as flat and constricted. In fact, she finds that her other muscles are gradually getting more relaxed too, her entire body starting to grow heavy, and by the time Roan pulls a blanket over her bare legs to let the warmth of the salve do its part, she's half-asleep already.

Only half-aware of her surroundings, she hears Roan say something about speaking to Dee, feels him pulling another blanket over her, and then she's out like a light.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some Monty/Raven feels while I wrote this, in case you couldn't tell.   
> Fun fact: This chapter was supposed to end in a slightly more smutty scene, but it simply didn't work. Which means that scene will come up in the next chapter, so there's that to look forward toi.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a weird chapter, and I think I tried to do too much with it. But I had to post it.

After a night of surprisingly deep and restful sleep, Raven and her little team meet again over breakfast to discuss their next steps. With a clear head and a good night's sleep behind her, Raven realises it was a good thing she didn't start putting the bombs together last night - after all, they still have to transport them to the power plant, and that will be much less dangerous while the components are still isolated. They will nonetheless have to be careful when transporting them, but it should be doable, Raven and Monty agree.

As for the explosion itself... Well, they've done some preliminary projections on physics and statics. Now that they know how much explosive power they actually have to work with, they can make their projections more accurate before they put the bombs in place. Everything after that is just luck, and hoping for the best.

"What are the chances it'll go wrong?" Roan asks, and Raven appreciates how calm his voice is. He's not doubting her ability, not questioning their decision; he simply wants all the facts.

"Slim, but there's always a risk. If the containment unit doesn't collapse the way we hope it will, we won't be able to contain the radiation - and if things go really bad, we might trigger another nuclear fission."

Monty's nod confirms her words, and silence settles again as they turn back to their breakfast - the constant threat of death and danger has become too commonplace to distract them from perfectly good food. Still, everyone in the room is no doubt mulling over their prospects.

"Maybe you should tell your people to evacuate," Miller says in between bites. "Get out of the immediate range of the plant until we're sure our plan worked out."

Roan looks at him appraisingly for a moment, then turns his eyes on Raven as if to wait for her input. 

"It's not a bad idea. If things do go bad, this place may be close enough to be affected."

Roan nods. "Alright then."

"How many people are living in the area?" Monty asks, and the fact that Roan answers without hesitation speaks to how much this alliance has solidified.

"Not that many. There's another trading post a few days east, and a few farmers scattered about. I can send riders out to alert them." He focuses on Miller. "Thank you for suggesting it."

Miller doesn't acknowledge the thanks with more than a nod, but Raven can just see Monty giving his knee a quick, appreciative squeeze, and she could swear his cheeks darken just the faintest bit.

Interesting, she thinks to herself - and all the more reason to make sure they survive their crazy mission.

Within the hour, Roan has sent Dee and one of Marylen's guards out to warn everyone in the vicinity and bring them to the Stronghold.

Marylen protests, unwilling to leave the little kingdom she's built for herself over the years. But Lore pleads with her to take her daughter to safety, and eventually the old woman relents. Raven was secretly hoping Lore would retreat to the Stronghold herself, but for some reason, the Azgeda warrior insists on accompanying them once more, and Roan lets her. It's probably a good call, strategically speaking - he can keep an eye on her, and Lore won't be able to wreak havoc at the stronghold while they're busy saving everyone's asses - or seize control over it when they fail.

The fact that she's even thinking about these kinds of things when just a few weeks ago she could barely be bothered to follow the power struggles within Arkadia is a little unsettling - but then, this is her reality now.

While Roan deals with his people, Raven and Monty start to pack up the materials, handling them ever-so-carefully. Still, it takes a while until they're on the road, and by the time they reach the power plant, dusk is almost upon them. Raven and Monty take another tour of the facilities, this time keeping an eye out for good places to store the bombs. An important task and apparently, in Monty's opinion, a good moment for a little heart to heart.

"You and Roan seem to be growing closer..."

"What? Oh, yes, we're doing the whole happily married thing so his people don't try to kill me all the time. That Lore woman is out for blood, apparently."

Monty looks taken aback by the information.

"So you're only acting?"

"Well, I barely know the man."

But even as she says it, Raven isn't sure if it's the full truth. She hasn't known him for a long time, no, but their short connection so far has been one of openness and support, and she feels like she has a pretty good grasp of the person he is by now.

"He seems like a decent person."

"He is," Raven says and surprises herself with how firmly she believes it.

They reach the control room at this point, and Monty drops the issue as they focus on finishing the calculations. Once that's done, Raven suggests heading to the campfire to join the others, but Monty declines and veers off to the makeshift perimeter fence the others have erected around their camp yesterday, where Miller is currently on guard. Raven watches as Monty heads over and lays a hand on the guard's shoulder, as Miller turns around and smiles brightly, then she continues on to her tent. There must be some leftovers from Marylen's rich breakfast still stashed in Roan's pack, and Raven quickly unearths them and tucks in.

Roan himself is taking the early guard shift that night, so Raven doesn't expect him back any time soon. It feels strange to be going to bed without him, which speaks to just how much she's gotten used to having him around. Raven shakes her head, as if to tell herself not to be ridiculous. They've become closer than when they started out on this trip, yes, but that still doesn't mean that they're...

Well, she's not suddenly going to become all codependent – she's learned the hard way what it feels like to depend on someone too much only to have them be ripped away from her. It's bad enough that she relies on him for peace and protection and moving around, apparently. She damn sure better be able to sleep without him.

Still, it feels a little lonely in their tent, and Raven is secretly relieved when she hears Clarke's voice outside.

“Raven? You up?”

“Yes. What's going on?”

Clarke's head pops in through the entrance.

“Nothing, just wanted to check on you.”

Raven motions for her to come inside and Clarke does, settling in next to her on top of the furs. She studies her for a moment, probably deciding on what to say, then says:

"Planting the bombs is going to be dangerous. Are you sure you don't want someone else to do it?"

"Are you asking if I'd rather see another one of my friends get blown up? No, I definitely would not!" Raven spits out, and Clarke looks a little startled. Raven continues in a more conciliatory tone. "Besides, I want to make sure it's done right. And if we ever wanted to do something right - trust me, it's this."

Clarke swallows hard. "Alright. But no getting blown up. You know we're fucked without you."

"I know you are."

"And our alliance with the Ice Nation will most likely break up."

"Nah, you and Roan are buddies. You've got this covered."

"You're the one who's keeping him invested in the alliance."

Raven scoffs - she has a feeling the statement is less about her diplomatic talent and more about... other developments.

"Wow, Clarke, way to make me sound like a high-end prostitute. A really good one, but still..."

"That's not what I meant! I mean... It seems like he genuinely cares about you."

"I _am_ saving everyone's ass," Raven replies, trying not to let it show that the words send a little thrill through her.

"So is Monty, but I don't see Roan looking at him the way he looks at you."

Raven is briefly tempted to point out that Clarke really isn't the best when it comes to spotting the way certain people look at others - but then again, maybe that blind spot is just when it comes to her and Bellamy, and Raven doubts she'll get much out of Clarke when it comes to that matter. 

Apparently, she's been silent for too long, because Clarke lays a hand on her arm and looks at her sympathetically. "Look, I don't want to pressure you to do anything. If you want to keep your distance, you do that. I'm just saying if you wanted to keep a little less distance... I don't think Roan would mind."

Inside of Raven, the urge to do just that gets stronger every second she thinks about it. In fact, she should probably keep her distance from this entire issue and steer the conversation in another direction to make sure she doesn't get any ideas. But the thing is, the idea may be already there, flickering ever more brightly throughout the day. And with a courage she doesn't know the origin of, Raven blurts out:

"There's a chance that I wouldn't mind either."

Clarke grins and actually bounces a little in her spot, an amount of excitement Raven isn't used to seeing from her.

“Don't get overexcited, okay? All I'm saying is, he isn't _terrible_.”

Clarke visibly paces herself, but there's still a sly little twinkle in her eyes. "Of course. _Not terrible_ is a good start though.” Raven glares at her, and Clarke grimaces sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I'm just excited. And it's _not_ because of the alliance, okay? I really just want to see you happy. And if you think there's a chance of that with Roan... Well, let's just say we don't get that many chances down here."

A shadow flickers across her face, and Raven puts an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

"We'll get enough."

Clarke sighs and leans into her a little, just enough to make her aware of how exhausting it must be for her friend to keep her back straight and her head high for others all day, to make the calls and take the blame for everyone and everything. She wonders if Clarke knows that, for everyone calling her Wanheda and blaming her for their problems, there are plenty of people who'd go to hell and back for her, herself included.

But before she can tell her that, Clarke is already straightening up again and getting back to her feet.

"Well, I'm off to bed. I'm sure your husband will be home soon."

Clarke waggles her eyebrows suggestively and Raven laughs and thinks with sudden and uncharacteristic wistfulness that, in another lifetime, this might have been a normal occurrence rather than a rare treasure: Sitting together with a friend, gossiping and teasing each other. The thought makes her heart ache, and she quickly pushes it aside. Bellamy may find some inspiration in history, Clarke may draw her strength from some sort of better tomorrow only she can see – but Raven's a here and now kind of person.

Except that tonight, her thoughts are racing ahead to the next day. This is the thing they've been working toward for weeks now, the reason for this trip, the basis of their alliance with the Ice Nation. If something goes wrong tomorrow, if their plan fails to work out.... Well, best case scenario they're back to square one with no more answers. Worst case they're all dead, and everyone else will follow soon.

Since obviously, that can't happen, Raven tries to prepare herself as well as she can: she mentally goes over every step in their plan, making sure she's got it all down. She stares at the plant's blueprints on the data tablet until she's sure she could find her way around there in the dark. She even treats herself to some more of Marylens plant salve, kneading it in thoroughly to make sure she's as painfree and mobile as possible tomorrow. The only thing left to do is sleep - and this is where she fails miserably.

Breathing exercises don't work. Counting the stars in imaginary constellations doesn't work. Not even Roan's warm presence works when he comes into the tent and curls around her, quietly because he probably thinks she's asleep. The only thing that changes is that now, when she fidgets and twitches, she feels guilty for keeping him awake too.

"Raven? Are you still awake?"

"Yes," she replies, more than a little sheepish.

But Roan is all gentle concern. "Your leg still giving you trouble?"

“It's fine now, the salve really worked. I guess I'm just nervous about tomorrow.”

There's a pause, and she really hopes he won't try to tell her there's no reason to be nervous.

But she needn't have worried.

“It's a big day tomorrow. It's understanable to be nervous."

Raven could hug him for his honesty.

"Still, you need to try and shut that out. Any idea what would help you relax?”

She can think of one thing that has proven pretty effective in the past - in fact, she was just about to try it out when he returned from his watch. Which is a problem, because she can hardly do  _that_ with him right here.

Or can she?

No, Raven chastises her mind for coming up with the thought. That would be wrong. And stupid. And super weird.

And yet...

Ever since he first kissed her in that breathtaking way to make their marriage look good for Lore, she's been wondering what else her still very much new and strange husband could do to her. Last night's helpful massage certainly suggested that he's good with his hands. And both Clarke and Monty seemed fairly convinced that their pretended intimacy didn't take much pretending from Roan. And regardless of her own, still fairly undecisive thoughts on the matter, the fact is that there's a chance she'll get blown up tomorrow, and if that happens, she'll never find out if the things she's been wondering about her new husband are true.

“Maybe there's something I can do to help somehow,” he suggests, and her breath stutters for a moment. His question is perfectly in line with the direction of her thoughts – almost as if he was volunteering. And maybe he is? Maybe he's got something quite like this in mind, and maybe she'll never find out if she doesn't give it a try.

With one trembling hand, she reaches out for him, lays her palm on top of his where it rests loosely on the curve of her waist, and gently pushes his hand lower; down her stomach to the waistband of the thin leggings Marylen gave her to sleep in.

“There is." A beat, a nervous swallow. "If you want to.”

For a moment, nothing happens. Roan does nothing to indicate what he thinks of her request, and Raven is all nerves. With the exception of approaching her for appearance's sake, he has never given her any indication that he'll ask anything like this from her, has never tried to push her in this direction. Maybe he simply doesn't want her like this?

Then his fingers twitch under hers and he finally replies, voice even more raspy than it usually is.

“I can do that. If you want me to.”

She nods, wonders briefly if he understands, since he can't see her in the dark. But he must have felt the movement, because the next thing she knows, his other hand is coming up to brush aside her hair, exposing her neck to the cold air and, shortly after, to his warm breath when he lets his lips slide along the column of her neck, the barest hint of a touch as he breathes her in, and Raven shivers and presses her legs together as anticipation begins to pool inside her.

Only when he's completed the movement with a kiss to her collarbone does Roan start to push down her leggings and underwear. Raven helps with her hand and wiggles her hips to make it easier, and then the leggings are bunched around her knees and his hand slides up the outside of her thigh, resting briefly on her hip as if he's waiting for her to change her mind.

Instead of stopping him, she lets her legs fall open a little and takes his hand once more to guide it to where she needs him.

She can hear him draw in a shuddering breath and hopes that means he's as nervous about this as she is. But the nervousness doesn't last long. His fingertips dance up and down her sex almost shyly for just a few moments. Soon his touches get more deliberate. One finger slips through her folds to find her increasingly wet, then travels up to brush against her clit, repeating the motion when it makes her draw in a sharp breath.

“Tell me what you like, ai haiplana,” he encourages her, and Raven nods and breathes out a yes that doesn't quite make it into sound. “Tell me when I'm right.”

His fingertip keeps drawing little circles around that magical spot now, closer and closer until... She gasps and grabs his wrist, keeping him in place.

“Right there.”

“Alright.” Another soft kiss to her neck, then his fingertip is joined by a second one in drawing small, tight circles on her clit, his lips sucking and nibbling at her pulse point in a rhythm that matches his fingers. Tilting his hips forward, he presses her more firmly into his hand – and makes her aware of him painfully hard against her backside. She pushes back into him and relishes his strangled groan.

“You like this?”

“Yes.” _Stars_ , she does. “More!” she commands and he obeys, adding a third finger to increase the stimulation and speeding up as well. Soon she's close, her entire body taut and ready, hips rocking back against him, her mind filled with the promise of other things they could do, things she might want to do... but not just now.

“Come on, Raven, let yourself go...”

She lets out a shuddering breath, then holds on to his arm where it rests across her chest, holding him against her, and presses her face into it just to make sure she'll keep quiet when the inevitable happens.

Roan, apparently interpreting her actions correctly, chuckles into her ear.

“There's no need to be quiet. Just let go.” And then he sucks on her pulse point once more, increases the pressure of his fingertips just the slightest bit, and Raven tenses and bucks against his hand and flies apart.

Despite his reassurance, she presses her face into his arm to stifle her moan - they _are_ in a tent after all. Even if it's unlikely that someone's listening in the first place, she's not risking an audience. Lore can have the sappy flirting and ostentatiously domestic little gestures, but this moment right now - this is just for her.

Raven comes down slowly and steadily, bypassing any potential awkwardness to move straight on to the long-awaited tiredness with every pounding heartbeat. Roan eases up the pressure of his fingertips and takes them away just before it gets too much, gently running his hand up and down her side instead to send pleasant zings through her sensitive body.

“I hope it worked,” he murmurs as he nuzzles her shoulder, and Raven laughs sleepily.

“It did. Thank you.” Then something occurs to her, shamefully late if she's honest. "What about you?" She asks, pressing back against him to make it abundantly clear what she means.

Roan draws in a shuddering breath but pulls back a little.

"I'll survive. And you, I think, are finally ready to go to sleep.”

That she is, Raven has to admit. Her entire body feels heavy in that delicious, satisfied way, and she knows if she closes her eyes now, she'll be fast asleep in a matter of seconds.

Still, it feels a little unfair to leave him hanging like that.

“Are you sure?”

But Roan gently pulls up her leggings again, then presses a soft kiss to her temple.

"We'll have other nights."

She should perhaps fight off the long-awaited sleep long enough to rectify the fact that they haven't even kissed _properly_ – or the knowledge that there might be some emotion-related stuff she may have to address in this situation. But not right now, when her eyes are finally drifting shut and her thundering heartbeat has slowed down to a steady lull.

The last clear thought she has it that she really hopes Roan's prediction is right - they'll need _a lot_ of other nights like this.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one earns its "Graphic depictions of violence"- warning, in case anyone wants to be prepared. It also contains heaps of wildly incorrect science and implausible physics. But also: EMOTION. So, proceed at your own risk.

Raven's never been one for lounging around in bed – she's always preferred tackling the day head on, with open eyes and ready hands. But today, she allows herself to stay buried in furs and blankets for a bit and just think. She certainly has some thinking to do, she knows, and it may be best to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. It helps that Roan is still asleep, one arm loosely thrown over her waist, and that she must have turned around at some point during the night because she's lying on her side facing him when she wakes up, which provides her with an excellent opportunity to study her husband while she thinks.

He looks if not exactly peaceful then at least rested, and in the interest of being both thorough and honest in her assessment, Raven lets her eyes rove across the sharp edges of his face, barely softened by sleep, and admits that he is in fact a very attractive man. A very attractive man who knows how to do very pleasurable things with his hands and lips. Who, incidentally, has already married her and seems determined to make it work. Who has been nothing but kind and caring and who, according to Clarke, has a certain way of _looking_ at her.

Raven sighs, then freezes as she waits for the sound to wake him up. But his breathing stays even and peaceful, and she returns to her ruminations.

The thing is, she's not sure what she expected when she said yes to this marriage, but she didn't expect _this_ , whatever _this_ is. The plan was to keep herself to herself, to guard her heart and only give out her thoughts in small, measured doses as needed to fortify their alliance-slash-relationship. And yet here she is, just a few weeks into this crazy idea of a marriage, and she's already shared so much more with him, of her mind and now, apparently, her body too – and it left its traces.

Last night was meant to relax and distract her, and while it may have achieved that in the moment, today she realizes that crossing that line has left her with a hunger that is completely unexpected in its depth and voraciousness. She wants more of what she had last night; more of laying back and relaxing and letting someone else take care of her, more of being reminded that her body isn't just a nuisance or an instrument of torture; that it can be a thing of beauty and pleasure too. She wants _more_ , she wants it for herself, and she wants it _now_.

But now is not the time. Now, she has a mission.

She gets up and gets dressed as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Roan. She tells herself it's because he deserves to sleep a little longer and it's still early, but there's a chance that she's really just nervous about how to face him.

Of course, she still has to do that later. But later, there are plenty of other people around and Raven is munching on some bread and listening to Jasper talking about ideal mixing ratios for the chemicals, and she's too engrossed to notice Roan approaching from the side until he has already pressed a kiss to her cheek, murmured “good morning”, and ambled off to the fireplace to get some breakfast. The whole interaction is over so fast Raven barely has time to register the moment of panicked surprise when he appears by her side, or the flash of heat as she remembers the last time his lips touched her skin.

Jasper looks like he's about to say something, and since Lore is sitting nearby and watching her, Raven decides letting Jasper comment in any way on her and Roan's relationship is way too dangerous. She cuts him off instead and distracts him with a follow-up question while gently leading him away, and by the time she's achieved that, she has lost sight of Roan and doesn't see him again until they're done mixing the chemicals and filling them into three large glass jars to put them in place.

Once that is done, the detonators and timers are next, and this is where they hit their first snag: One of the timers malfunctions, leaving them stranded with a perfectly placed, perfectly functional bomb and no way to remotely detonate it.

But Raven isn't going to let a little bump like that stop her. They've made it this far, they're going to get it over with, now. Because she's sick of being scared, sick of the dreams where all her friends are mottled and bloodied with radiation burns, sick of living on a countdown clock. She wants to start living, goddammit!

Besides, as she explains to the others when Clarke suggests they regroup and come up with another plan, they don't know how long the explosive mix will stay stabilised, which means they have to either use it or destroy it, in which case they won't have enough of the chemicals left to make another set of bombs. 

And so, while the others are still digesting that information, Raven figures out the only other way to detonate the timer-less bomb: manually. The very, _very_ old-fashioned way, which she only knows from old movies she watched with Finn on the Ark, cowboys and bandits and train heists, and today, she's going to take inspiration from 19th century outlaws to blow up a 21st century power plant so she'll have a shot at getting to see the 23 rd century for herself.

"I need that roll of string we've got in one of the packs." Bellamy didn't even want to take the string when she found it at Marylen's post: only about as thick as a data cable, it's not much use in carrying heavy weights or tying up prisoners, and its highly flammable natural fibers make it more dangerous to use than nylon string. But for her purpose, it's perfect.

"And some of your sterilising alcohol, Clarke."

"What are you planning?" Roan asks with a frown that suggests he expects to dislike her plan.

"I am going full Old Earth." That doesn't seem to enlighten anyone, so she adds: "I'm laying a fuse."

"Is that safe?" Yep, Roan definitely doesn't like her plan.

"Depends on how much string we've got."

The others look similarly unconvinced, but Raven doesn't care.

"Alright, here's the plan. Monty, Jasper, you get in position to set off the other two detonators. We're staying in contact with the walkies. I attach the string to the third bomb, set it on fire and give you the signal. We need to test how quickly it burns to time the other two detonations, but that shouldn't be a problem. Everyone else get as far away from here as possible."

"And leave you here alone?"

"Unless you want to get blown up too, yes."

"We shouldn't place all our technical minds so close to the bombs," Clarke protests, already thinking ahead to a future they are currently cut off from because of one stupid broken piece.

"Yes we should. Because if something malfunctions, we need to be able to fix it, and quick." She looks over at Monty and Jasper, determination on both their faces. "Of course, I can't make you do it..."

"But it's best this way," Monty says determinedly, and behind him, Miller shuts his eyes too slowly and for too long to be just blinking. Raven forces herself not to take note of it, or to remember the smiles that passed between her two friends last night.

"Exactly. So let's get to it. And the rest of you - scram. I want you out of walkie range before this thing blows."

Of course, half the group doesn't listen but stays to watch them as they measure out the string - 80 feet; not bad but still pretty tight - then cut off about two feet of it to soak them in alcohol, set them on fire and time how long it takes for the string to burn off: Not long at all.

Not long enough for Raven to get away in time.

"Someone else might have a chance..." Bellamy suggests, and Raven has no doubt he means himself. Judging by her expression, Clarke has come to the same conclusion.

Raven just shakes her head and tries something else. Foregoing the alcohol poses a risk that the fire will go out, but it also gives her more time. _Enough_ time, if she gives it all she's got.

She gets back up from her crouched position and rolls up the string again, careful not to cause any knots that will throw off their calculations. When she's done, she looks up to find everyone watching her somberly, and her throat tightens for a moment. She's suddenly tempted to zip around and give hugs to everyone, possibly without ever letting go, and that's the last thing she has time for right now.

"Why are you still standing around? Get lost!" She barks, and seeks out Clarke's eyes. _Please_ , she mentally urges her friend, _please remember what we talked about last night._ And it works: Clarke gives a tiny nod, then turns to the sheepish little group.

"You heard Raven. We'll only be in the way."

The evacuation starts slowly, but eventually everyone filters out to leave her to her work - everyone, that is, except for Roan. He remains in the same spot he's been standing in before, leaning against a table just a few feet from her.

"What are you waiting for?", Raven snaps. She wants to get on with it, and she can't do that if she has to keep worrying about all those stubborn idiots.

"I said I'd protect you. No exceptions."

And since he's still standing here, minutes away from a gigantic explosion, Raven knows that he means it - he'll protect her from whatever is out to get them as long as she lets him.

The prospect is breathtaking - but this kind of devotion is dangerous, too.

"You can't protect me from this."

"I can try."

"And you could _die_ trying.” Raven crosses the short distance between them, hesitates for a moment and then lays a hand on his arm. “Your people need you. They need the future you've been planning for them. So please, let me make sure they get that future. And if I don't make it out of here, promise me you'll honour our treaty and let my people be a part of that future too."

He looks at her, opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again and nods. 

"I promise."

Raven swallows hard. With every second she lingers here, every second she puts off lighting that fuse, it becomes clearer to her that she really, _really_ wants to survive this. Survive, and see that very future for herself - help build it, even - with _him_.

And because there's nothing left to say but she doesn't want to say goodbye, Raven brings her hands up to his shoulders, then lets one of them ghost along to his jaw, travel up to cup his cheek and brush her thumb across the raised, crescent-shaped scar on his temple.

Roan watches her, silently and without movement. Well, almost: When she brushes her lips across his, he leans forward to meet them with his own. He's not caught by surprise this time - he anticipates and welcomes her kiss, and when she opens her mouth and lets her tongue slide across the seam of his lips, he welcomes this too.

He lays his hands on her waist and pulls her against him, and there it is again, that hunger he awakened last night. Like a starving person, Raven loops her arms around his neck and presses closer, and when she closes her eyes, she feels a flicker of what it felt like to walk among the stars, weightless and timeless and _whole_. 

But just like the Ark tethered her to reality back then, reality tethers her to earth now - an earth that needs her to keep her eyes open and her hands busy, a place where she has more important things to do than memorise the shape and taste and texture of another person's lips as if they were just as important as all the other knowledge in her head. 

Raven draws back, reluctantly, and looks at the man before her with the distinct feeling that something has shifted, to a small but significant degree. There's a possiblity opening up that she didn't think she had: The possibility that she could love this man.

"What was that for?"

 _For remembering your promises_ , Raven wants to say but can't quite get the words out.

"For science," she says instead, an evasive answer Roan doesn't let her get away with - one raised eyebrow indicates that she better explain. "I wanted to know what I'm missing out on if I get blown up."

Roan smiles, bright and genuine, and Raven's heart skips a beat.

"Let's just agree not to get blown up then," he says, and there's that teasing hint to his voice again that she wants to hear more of. In fact, Raven realises as her little moment of clarity stretches on, there are a lot of things she wants more of.

"Yes. Let's not do that."

She's very tempted to kiss him again, just to make sure the memory sticks. But she's got work to do, Jasper and Monty are waiting to hear from her, and a radiation-soaked power plant is not the best place for lengthy make-out sessions in any case. Still, Raven decides as she gives him a little push to the door and watches him walk away, as soon as she's blown this monster to pieces, they'll continue this.

Oh yes.

With a smile, Raven turns back to her work. She hears Roan's footsteps receding down the corridor and allows herself to relive their kiss only until the sound is no longer audible. Then her attention is back on her work, her mind 100% focused on finding the best place to attach the string and on making sure it won't fall off before the spark has reached the explosive in its protective jar.

And it is precisely this focus that makes her notice when there's a slight tug on the string that shouldn't be there, a slight shift in the light around her... She turns around just in time to see the sharp blade of a dagger pointing down at her and roll sideways before it slams down, missing the vulnerable explosives by no more than a hand's breadth. It slices past the edge of the spool of string instead, and Raven can only pray that it didn't damage the valuable fuse. Anger roars up within her – she's _this_ close to her goal, she's not going to be stopped by a back-stabbing grounder bitch.

Because the woman standing before her is none other than Lore, Roan's former friend - and apparently, she has no intentions of befriending Raven anytime soon.

“Are you trying to get us both blown up?“

“Actually, the idea was to kill only you, and preferably without a bomb anywhere nearby. But Roan just would not leave, the lovesick idiot, and I've wasted precious time already.” The grounder woman cocks her head to give Raven an appraising look. “I have to say, I didn't think he was in that deep. Attracted, yes. But he seems to have genuine feelings for you, and I can't allow you to be in a position with that much power over him. You people will never be more than a burden to Azgeda, and even your little inventions won't balance that out. So as much as I hate to hurt my King, I'm afraid I'll have to take away his queen.”

With that, she actually jumps over the table Raven has inched behind, and while Raven jumps backwards and turns to flee, she knows she doesn't stand a chance against the other woman, who's much quicker and much more agile than her.

A hard tug on her ponytail makes her cry out in pain, then she's yanked back against Lore's armoured body and feels the cold steel of the dagger against her throat.

“Leida, ai haiplana!”

She knows enough Azgedasleng to understand the words: _"Goodbye, my Queen"_ \- the only time Lore has ever addressed her as such. The taunt doesn't miss its mark: Raven is instantly filled with helpless rage when she should probably at least try and make her peace.

Raven can already feel the bite of the blade when a voice rings out across the room:

“Stop!”

Lore yanks her around to face the new arrival, and Raven chokes down a relieved sob at the sight of Roan in the doorway, his bow drawn with an arrow pointed right at them.

“I knew something was up when you weren't with the others. What are you trying to achieve with this, Lore?”

“I'm trying to free us from these _leeches_ ,” Lore spits. “They're useless and weak, and you can't see it because you're too busy with your little wife.”

“They're our allies. And she's your queen.”

“She'll never be _my_ queen.” The dagger, which had moved away from her throat when Roan surprised them, returns to tickle Raven's skin once more.

“If you harm Raven, you won't make it out of this room alive.”

"You wouldn't choose her over one of your own", Lore spits, voice so filled with venom Raven can practically picture her sneer.

But the hand pressing the blade to her neck is trembling - and Roan's hand is steady when he lets his arrow fly.

Raven doesn't have time to wonder about his choice, but she remembers, later, that she never doubted its outcome for a second.

She feels the arrow's feathers scratch past her cheek and claws her hands into Lore's arm to brace herself against the sudden impact. The sharp blade cuts into her skin anyway, but Raven wrenches off Lore's suddenly limp arm and throws herself sideways before the lifeless body can drag the knife's edge deeper.

She hits the ground hard, droplets of blood sprinkling the floor before she even lands on it - but she's alive, and just an arm's length away, Lore is staring at her through lifeless eyes.

Then Roan is kneeling by her side, pulling her up by her shoulders with an urgency that could almost be described as frantic.

"Are you harmed?” His eyes fall on her neck. “She cut you."

"Just a little. She didn't kill me, that's all that counts.” She can still walk, can still lay down that fuse and light it. She can still _do this_.

Raven gets to her feet, using Roan's shoulders to propel herself up, then limps over to the bomb. It's completely untouched, and her work on the fuse is still intact too. She checks everything over again anyway, just in case, then picks up the spool with trembling hands.

“I'm done here. Let's unwind this and get out.”

Then her eyes fall on the body on the ground and she hesitates, feeling a little callous. The woman may have tried to kill her, but at some point, she and Roan were friends.

“Unless you want to get her body out of here to have a funeral?”

Roan shakes his head; a short, jerky motion.

“Traitors don't get funerals.”

Raven nods, but the hard edge to his voice, the muscle twitching in his jaw tells her he's not as unaffected as he'd like to be, and she wants to comfort him, somehow.

Remembering the phrase she heard the grounders say too often, Raven walks back over to the body, bends down and gently closes the woman's wide, glassy eyes.

“Yu gonplei ste odon,” she murmurs, and Roan steps up next to her, lays a hand on the small of her back, and echoes the words.

When she looks at him again, the determination on his face is set more firmly. 

"Ready?" 

Raven nods, then grabs her little bag of tools and her walkie and starts slowly walking to the door, carefully unspooling the fuse as she goes. 

Bellamy tried out the shortest way to the exit before, and that's the one she's taking now. it will lead her out of the building, where a short distance away there's a small concrete buildng she can duck behind to be shielded from the blast. Two more turns of the corridor, and they'll be out of the building and can light that fuse. 

Except her string ends after just one corner, and Raven is left with about ten feet of cut-off string dangling uselessly from her hands. Raven curses under her breath. 

"Lore cut off a piece of string. It's too short now, our calculations don't work out anymore."

"But that speed was calculated for you." 

Raven nods, aware where this is going and not liking it at all. But she knows, now, that there's no choice: She either has to call off the whole thing, or hand it over to Roan and trust that he'll come through.

"If you die, your people will open war on mine again." She tries to make it sound like a warning and not a plea, but she's not entirely sure she succeeds. 

"Nah," Roan quips, his small smile indicating an attempt at gallows' humour, "they don't love me that much."

"They will!" Raven exclaims fiercely, and feels instantly gratified when warmth lights up his eyes. 

Next thing she knows, he's kissing her once more, with a wild urgency that she thinks may not be owed entirely to their time-pressed situation. And like before, she has to actively fight the urge to melt into him and let someone else deal with the stupid apocalypse.

Apparently, Roan possesses a lot more self-restraint than she does, because he pulls away again after what Raven considers way too little time. 

He snatches the lighter out of her hand, then turns her away to face down the corridor that will be their escape. 

"Go ahead and signal Jasper and Monty to get ready. I'm going to slowly count to ten, then I'm lighting the fuse." 

Raven hesitates even though it's the best plan they've got at the moment, and Roan gently squeezes her shoulders. 

"I'll be right behind you." 

She nods, then starts walking. A quick check-in with Monty and Jasper, then she already hears footsteps behind her. Footsteps that are getting louder quickly - like someone running for their life.

Raven speeds up, but she doesn't have much leeway left when she hears Roan sprinting up behind her.

"Something's wrong. It's burning much faster than before."

Cold fear grips her, but still the instinct to tackle the problem rationally is there. She wants to ask how he knows, how much faster it's burning, what exactly he did to the string. .. Then she realises none of these things matter now. What matters is getting out of range of the blast.

Roan has reached her by now, and without fanfare, he picks her up, throws her over his shoulder and keeps running, although significantly slower now. Lifting her head, Raven stares at the containment building, willing it not to blow up until they've reached safety.

To no avail.

She sees the wall of fire roar out of the entrance just before she feels its heat, watches the containment dome tremble and start to collapse and knows Monty and Jasper have detonated their bombs too - and increased the force of the explosion in the process.

"Get down!" She yells out, and suddenly finds herself thrown off to the side - behind the concrete building that could be their salvation. She just manages to half crawl, half roll behind the structure before the blast wave hits and Roan is thrown off his feet like a rag doll.

Even flat on the floor behind a block of concrete, Raven can still feel the wave of pressure, can feel the air being sucked out of her lungs and the heat singe her skin. Her eardrums pop, and then there's nothing but bright light and the rumble of the containment building as it collapses behind them.

The blinding whiteness recedes slowly as Raven tries not to breathe in too deply or move too much, and through the dust settling all around her, she spots Roan lying on the ground a few feet away. Even through the haze in her head, Raven remembers clearly what happened just before the blast: Roan threw her behind the concrete building, delivering her to relative safety.

 _No exceptions._  

With the last of her strength, Raven crawls over to him and takes his hand in hers.

If they die today, they're not dying alone.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect feelings and general implausibility.

Raven wakes to find herself surrounded by familiar faces - but not the one she most wants to see, the last face she saw before everything went dark. The memory assaults her before she's even completely awake, dust and fire and pain, and she takes gasping breaths of thankfully clean air and lifts her hands to her face to check for burns.

But except for a scrape on one cheek and a bump on her forehead, her skin is smooth, her body sore and weak but not broken, not ripped to shreds after all. The only thing keeping her from feeling perfectly fine is a pounding headache, but she hopes that's just a temporary side effect.

"What happened?" Raven croaks, then wavers about which question to ask next. In the end, she blurts them out one right after the other: "Did it work? Where's Roan?"

The range of emotions flickering across her friends' faces is dizzying: Happiness, anticipation - and then a shadow, a shared fear of having to convey bad news.

"It worked. The dome collapsed, and the radiation readouts around it are staying low," Monty informs her. Then he stops, and only Raven's pleading look prompts him to continue. "Roan got caught in the blast. He's alive but..." Raven's blood turns to ice, and she grips the nearest hand to claw her nails into. "He's not doing great. Clarke is doing what she can, and Bellamy went to get Abby. He just has to hang on long enough."

"I want to see him." Raven starts to get up, then realises that only one of her legs follows her order. There's a flash of panic before she understands that someone must have taken off her brace.

"Where's my brace?"

The thought that it may have been destroyed in the explosion is too horrible to contemplate – and to her relief, that's not the case. Within a moment, Harper has placed the brace on the bed and is helping her sit up.

"How are you feeling?"

Raven takes stock without pausing in her movements. "Like I just escaped a bomb blast." Monty's mouth turns into a thin line. "Relax, mostly I just have a headache."

With Harper's help, she puts on the brace and gets to her feet. It's only now that she consciously takes in her surroundings: wood and stone, walls and ceilings and a floor, and none of it the steel and concrete of the power plant.

"We're back at Marylen's place?"

"Clarke thought it would be easier to treat you here. You woke up a few times on the trip, don't you remember?"

Raven shakes her head. Now that Monty mentions it, she thinks she remembers being carried on some sort of stretcher, but the moving canopy of leaves and sky above made her dizzy, and as soon as she closed her eyes she inevitably drifted off again.

Luckily, and pragmatically, they didn't put her and Roan far apart: Monty only has to help her across the narrow hallway, then she's standing at the foot of a bed similar to the one they stayed in just a few nights ago and looking down on Roan's lifeless form.

Clarke, who's been fixing a bandage on his head, turns at the shuffling sound of her walk.

"Raven!" Clarke strides towards her, but her joyful tone is quickly replaced by a reproachful one. "You shouldn't be out of bed so soon. You have at least a concussion."

Raven ignores her, eyes still glued to the unconscious figure before them.

"How is he?"

Clarke's face softens, but before she answers the question, she pulls up a cot and manoeuvres Raven onto it.

"He had a punctured lung and some sort of abdominal injury I couldn't quite pinpoint. I managed to drain the fluid from his lung, and his blood pressure is steady, so it seems the bleeding has stopped for now. But... I can't make any guarantees."

It's not as bad as Raven thought, but it's still not enough.

"You have to save him, Clarke."

"I know," Clarke says, but her expression adds "for my people", and that's not enough either.

"Not just for the alliance," Raven urges, desperate to make herself understood. "You have to save him _for me_."

Clarke's eyes widen briefly, then she nods. "I will." She looks determined in that way only Clarke can, the way that dares the universe to try and stop her.

"Thank you."

She turns to Roan, lets her eyes rove down over the cuts and bruises on his face to his heavily bandaged chest, and swallows hard.

"What happened in there?" Clarke asks softly and sits down next to her.

"Lore," Raven says tonelessly, then realises that that's not quite enough of an explanation. "She followed me inside after you all left and tried to kill me. Roan noticed that she was missing, came after her and stopped her just in time. But she cut some of the string and we had to make do with a shorter fuse." Raven looks down at her hands, nervously fingering the scab over an old scratch. "Roan thought he could do it, but... Well, something went wrong, and it burned faster than we thought. And then he stopped to carry me to safety and got caught in the blast." When she looks up again, there's no stopping the tears that fall from her eyes. "So if he doesn't make it, that's on me."

Clarke sighs and pulls her close.

"You can't think like that."

Raven snorts. "You're one to talk! You manage to blame yourself for everything."

"Look, yes, he got injured trying to save you. But that was his choice. He _chose_ to go after Lore, to stay with you and light the fuse and help you out of the blast zone. He wanted to keep you safe, no matter the cost."

"I could have stopped him. Told him that it was too dangerous. But I wanted so badly for it to be over..."

The words are cut off by a sob and then another, and then Raven finally understands that she's crying, sobbing messily into Clarke's shoulder when her friend pulls her close.

"Shh. It really is over. He just needs time. It's not your fault." There's more soothing nonsense like that, half of it lies and half of it hopes, but Raven is nonetheless thankful.

"He chose me, Clarke. Over her, over everyone like her... over one of his own people."

"He picked you first," Clarke sums up, and Raven remembers a conversation they had long, long ago.

She nods into Clarke's shoulder and simply holds on to her friend when a fresh wave of tears comes. A part of her knows this isn't just about Roan: It's about the fact that she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for weeks, and just when it was finally lifted, another weight may be placed there soon – the weight of a life lost because she gambled with it.

But he's not dead yet, she reminds herself and curls stiff fingers around Roan's cold hand on top of the bedsheet.

***

 

They haven't spent more than a few days at the trading post before old Marylen shows up, her guards and an excited-looking Portia in tow, and Raven's stomach plummets.

“We heard the King's life was in danger,” the old woman asks authoritatively, striding over to Roan's bed with Clarke hot on her heels. Raven refused to leave his room and has now taken up permanent residence on the cot Clarke first forced her down on, so she has front row seats to the whole show.

“It was," Clarke replies, apparently, the only one not afraid of Marylen - but then that shouldn't come as a surprise. “But I managed to stabilise him. He'll pull through, he just needs a lot of rest.”

Marylen nods, studies Clarke for a moment and then pulls her close for a brief hug. She whispers something in the startled blonde's ear that Raven doesn't catch but which she guesses might be “thank you”. Clarke no doubt marks it down as another steadying nail in the rickety framework of their alliance, but Raven can't bring herself to share in her relief.

While she's lounging around sipping broth and letting everyone fret over her, Roan is fighting for his life, and Portia is about to find out hat her mother is dead. And it's all because of her.

Raven leans over the side of the bed just in time to avoid throwing up all over her blankets.

Clarke is by her side in an instant, or perhaps it's Marylen or both of them, because there's a flurry of hands around her - placing a bucket under her, holding back her hair, soothing down her back and dribbling something cold over the back of her neck.

Raven just keeps retching.

By the time the dizzy spell passes, Portia and Marylen are nowhere to be seen. There's just Clarke, gently helping her lay back down with a worried expression.

"Have you been nauseous a lot the past few days?"

Raven almost shakes her head, then reconsiders and keeps it still.

"No. Just now."

Clarke doesn't seem completely reassured, but she only forces Raven to take a few sips of water and then lets her rest - although really, there's nothing restful at all about the uneasy lull she drifts off to. For hours, she's not so much sleeping as being pulled down into the dark by the weight of all the bodies whose lives she stole since she set out to save everyone - the attackers and her guard at the bunker, Lore... Roan, perhaps.

She's actually relieved when Marylen wakes her, pulling her out of her nightmarish daze by puttering around so loudly that it startles Raven awake.

"Good, you're up. We need to talk."

It's not a request, Raven knows.

Despite her brisk tone, however, the old woman helps Raven sit up with gentle hands, then hands her a mug with a brown liquid that smells unnervingly earthy.

"Drink this. It will give you strength."

"Are you sure?" Snark seems as good a way as any to chase off the night's remaining shadows - that, and a quick visual inventory of Roan, just to make sure he's still breathing, still stable. He is. "Because it smells like it will kill me."

Marylen huffs irritatedly but doesn't reply, only stares at Raven until she lifts the mug and actually takes a tentative sip. It's.... not as bad as it could be.

"I didn't just come here to check on you and Roan. I came here to warn you."

"Warn us?"

"There's a war party headed for us. They want to find out what exactly happened to the king."

Raven swallows hard, chasing the aftertaste of the drink off her tongue.

"How far away?"

"I can't say. Thea promised to hold them back as long as she could but... they're no more than two days away, I'm afraid." The name Thea rings a bell, faintly, but Raven can't quite put her finger on why. Perhaps Roan mentioned her? Whoever she is, she seems to be an ally, and Raven is in dire need of those right now.

"Have you told Clarke?"

"I told you first."

"But Clarke...."

"Clarke is Skaikru. She'll have to get involved when her people are being threatened. But this is an Azgeda problem. And you are Azgeda's queen."

Raven wonders, briefly, if throwing up again may be an option. "Tell that to Azgeda. So far, they're just as likely to kill me as to listen to me."

Marylen raises an eyebrow. "The attack at the bunker? Roan told me about it."

Raven nods, then hesitates. She isn't sure just how close the old woman was to Lore, so it's probably not the best idea to tell her the truth about her death. But on the other hand, keeping it from her feels cowardly, and that's the last thing she can afford to be right now.

"And Lore." Marylen doesn't really react to the news, which means at least she isn't altogether surprised that Lore tried to kill Raven. It gives her just enough courage to continue the story. "Lore didn't die in the explosion. She held a knife to my throat, so Roan put an arrow through her head.”

She looks down at her trembling hands, unable to keep looking at the grounder woman any longer.

But suddenly, startlingly, there's a wrinkle-softened hand on her chin, tilting up her head and forcing her to meet the woman's eyes.

“If she threatened our Haiplana, he had every right to kill her.”

It takes a moment for the meaning of the words to sink in – not to mention for the word “our”.

“You don't hate me.”

“You saved us all. Your friend saved the King. And I have a feeling Roan won't allow anyone to hate you – not even me.” She lets go of Raven's chin and puts a hand on her shoulder instead to squeeze it comfortingly, and Raven leans into the touch even though she still can't quite believe what she's hearing.

"Why? You have no reason to be loyal to me."

"My king is loyal to you. And more importantly, you are loyal to him."

Raven's face must be showing her surprise, and the old woman continues.

"You succeeded in destroying the power plant, didn't you?"

Raven nods.

"So you got what you came for. We're all safe from the worst of the radiation. You could take your people and leave, and never owe us a thing. But you stayed by the king's side."

"He saved my life," Raven protests, but it sounds perfunctory.

"He saved your life." Marylen agrees. "And that means you owe him a lot. But not, I think, this kind of devotion."

The old woman smiles at her knowingly, and Raven blushes, then immediately feels ridiculous. She's sitting here blushing and tittering about a man who may very well never wake up again - but then, maybe that's all the more reason not to let herself get bogged down by grief just yet.

"Don't worry, child. We'll make an Azgeda queen out of you yet."

Raven smiles and allows herself, for the moment, to be comforted by the old woman's support. But Marylen seems to be already thinking ahead, face serious and worried once more. Her eyes wander over Raven as if looking for something, then she sighs heavily.

"Of course, it would help if you had taken his markings."

"His what?"

Marylen gets up and walks over to Roan, lightly tracing the raised white scars on his temple.

"Most Azgedans, when they marry, adopt some variation of their houmon's markings and put them on their own skin."

"You have wedding tattoos?" Raven asks incredulously.

"Yes. How do you symbolise your wedding bonds?"

"We have rings."

" _Rings_?" Marylen asks, as if it's the most ridiculous thought ever. "Rings can be taken off. They can be lost. The markings stay with you forever, which is why not all people choose to do them. But for a marriage this important, I think they should have been done. They would send a powerful message to those who doubt Skaikru's dedication to this alliance."

"Are they difficult to do?"

"If they're done the way Roan's are, yes. It takes time to make them stand out like that. But if you simply etch the ink into the skin, it can be done in a few hours."

An idea forms in Raven's head - and with it, finally, hope. This is something she can handle, something she can _do_. Strategies and politics, that's Clarke's metier. But _creating_ something - she can work with that.

"Do you know how to do it?"

Marylen nods warily.

"Then let's get to it."

She expects Marylen to protest, but instead, the old woman only nods, goes to fetch a pen and some paper, and starts drawing. Based on Roan's facial markings, she soon shows Raven a simple, clean design: the crescent shapes on his temples, turned towards each other to form a circle to go around her biceps.

When Raven nods her approval, Marylen fetches a small leather pouch and a glass jar of dark liquid, then ushers Raven out to the courtyard - where they're immediately intercepted by Clarke. Ever the fussy doctor, Clarke interrogates Raven on why she's up and what they are planning.

Raven tells her because, well, she needs to know about the Azgeda war party headed for them all anyway.

"So, I'm getting a tattoo I guess." Raven finishes, and Clarke looks more and more like she's about to freak out.

"Are you sure? That seems very... permanent."

Raven raises an eyebrow.

"Really, Clarke? The political marriage was okay, but a _tattoo_ is where you draw the line?"

Clarke flinches, and Raven feels bad. She knows Clarke still feels guilty for not finding a way around the marriage thing, and Raven thinks she really should stop beating herself up over it. After all, there's a chance it may not end up being so bad. If Roan wakes up, of course. If she can convince the Azgedans that the marriage is legit and they're not planning to murder the King in his sleep. If they survive the next few days....

"If this makes them trust me more, I have to give it a shot."

Reluctantly, Clarke nods.

"At least let me disinfect it first," she snaps and storms off, presumably to get some moonshine.

"She's very protective," Marylen observes. "It's good to have friends like that."

"She cares a lot about people."

"And yet she did not step up to marry the king and strengthen the alliance herself."

"She would have broken someone's heart if she had. I didn't."

Marylen looks at her with a softness Raven didn't think she was capable of.

"I forget how young you are," the old woman observes and cups Raven's cheek, "how full of feeling. Don't let them take that from you. Earth is a hard enough place as it is."

Raven wonders where this is coming from, but doesn't ask - even in this little moment of softness, she doubts Marylen would appreciate prying questions. Besides, she's afraid of what will happen if she allows herself to really think about the words, about what it means to be hard or soft in this world; to feel or just survive.

Luckily, Clarke reappears from the house just then, followed by an excited-looking Jasper.

"You're getting a tattoo? Awesome!"

Clarke clearly does not share Jasper's enthusiasm. "Apparently, it's going to save us all when a band of angry Azgeda warriors shows up here soon."

Still, other than making it very clear that she disapproves, Clarke no longer tries to dissuage Raven from her decision. She pours some alcohol on a piece of cloth and looks at Raven expectantly.

"Where are you putting it?"

Raven shrugs out of her jacket to point at the place on her arm where the tattoo is supposed to go.

"Why don't you put it on your leg?" Jasper suggets. "That way, maybe it won't hurt so much."

Clarke shoots Jasper a death glare at the insensitive remark and starts angrily rubbing at her arm with the moonshine-soaked rag, but Raven doesn't feel the usual sting at being reminded of her bad leg.

"That would be cheating."

Marylen nods. "You're absolutely right. These markings need to be earned."

Pain it is then.

Aware of the Azgeda warriors who've come out to watch, Raven grits her teeth and balls her fists and manages not to make a sound when Marylen sterilizes her tools and gets to work. The tools consist of a sharp-tipped little hammer and a stick, with which she rapidly tap on the hammer so that it breaks the skin and embeds the black ink beneath it – a thousand little cuts that will blend into one shape, each, it seems, stinging worse than the one before.

Whenever Marylen takes a short break, Raven uses the opportunity to swipe a sip of moonshine. But she doesn't ever ask for Marylen to stop.

She's had worse, she reminds herself.

Still, when Marylen sets aside her instruments and allows Clarke to practically douse Raven's arm in alcohol, Raven's legs are weak, her blood-smeared arm feels simultaneously numb and on fire, and she's more than a little woozy.

But the Azgeda warriors, after inching gradually closer and closer to watch the process, break out into cheers and some sort of chant that she's pretty sure includes a dirty joke, and for a moment, Raven forgets that her big battle is yet to come.

Of course, Marylen doesn't let her forget about it for long. As soon as she's finished rubbing a gooey, wonderfully cooling salve onto Raven's fresh tattoo, the old woman declares:

“Alright. Let's get you ready to welcome our visitors when they arrive.”

Right, Raven remembers, immediately sobering up: She doesn't just have to look like Roan's queen – she has to convincingly play the part too.   


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who doesn't have a tattoo and therefore has no idea how it feels to get one? This idiot. (On the plus side, I learned a lot about Hawaiian tattoo art.) Also, I'm not even sure if the Ice Nation do ink tattoos at all - Roan, Nia and Ontari all have scarification tattoos, but I figured those might be a little more difficult to do in one afternoon. (But again, no idea.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought that Azgeda had a separate language from Trigedasleng when it appears they don't (and also I've been taking all my grounder words off a Trigedasleng dictionary). Which means that whenever I've been referring to "Azgedasleng", let's just imagine it's Trigedasleng but with like, a weird accent, alright? Thank you that is all.

Raven has always been a quick study, latching on to new knowledge with ease and hunger. But learning to be queen without the king who knows how to do this stuff? That's another matter entirely.

It requires memorizing a bunch of new Azgeda phrases and customs, protocol for a variety of purposes depending on what exactly the war party is here to do, and Roan's entire family tree.

And then there's the outfit.

Raven hasn't so much as looked at a mirror in probably weeks, but now that she's taken Roan's markings and is apparently a "representative figure" as Clarke puts it, Marylen decides Raven needs to look the part. So, with the war party no more than a day away, Raven and Clarke are watching as Marylen rifles through a wooden wardrobe, occasionally taking out clothing items to hold them up to Raven while looking at her skeptically.

"A long skirt might hide the brace…" Marylen thinks out loud, but Raven shakes her head.

"No skirt. No hiding. They either accept me as I am, or they don't. And it's not like I can hide the limp."

Marylen nods, apparently convinced, then hands her a black shirt and a long, white leather vest instead, both sleeveless.

"You want them to see the markings, after all."

That she does - she didn't sit through hours of pain for her commitment to go unnoticed.

In the end, Raven simply exchanges her jeans for a pair of simple black pants and straps the brace back on. Coupled with the leather and fur vest, much like one she's seen on Roan, Marylen deems the look acceptably Azgeda. Raven's just glad the stuff is comfortable - the shirt and pants are soft and stretchy, the vest supple and smooth to the touch. She likes the sensation of running her hands over its fur-trimmed cloak, and the buckled belt that goes around her waist makes sure the garment fits warm and snug.

While Raven admires her new clothes, a little guiltily because this is not about her getting shiny new things, Marylen gets to work on her hair. With deft hands, she undoes Raven's usual ponytail, runs a wooden comb through her mane, and starts braiding it so it wraps around her head to form a sort of crown.

"Now," Marylen explains and opens a trunk in the corner of the room to take out what appears to be a bundle of cloth, "one more thing and you look like a true Haiplana."

When she pulls off the coarse linen, Raven hears Clarke gasp behind her. Marylen is holding what is unmistakably an _actual_ crown: a circlet of intertwined smooth, white pieces it takes her a moment to realise are polished bones.

"I couldn't get my hands on Queen Nia's, so I had this one made to match Roan's."

Stepping closer, she gently sets the crown on top of Raven's braid, its jagged ivory tips contrasting starkly with her dark hair.

"Now you're ready," Marylen declares, and beside her, Clarke nods.

"You look beautiful," Clarke says softly, and Raven studies herself in the mirror once more to see if she agrees. She looks different, yes, wearing nice new clothes and a floating _crown_ , but she still looks like _herself,_ and not like someone tried to turn her into something she isn't. It makes things easier somehow, to know that she can be what her new position demands of her and still not give herself up completely. Clarke smiles and squeezes her hands, then turns back to Marylen and is all business again.

"What about security? How should we position our guards?"

"No Skaikru guards. An Azgeda queen will be protected by an Azgeda guard." Marylen looks at Clarke pensively. "Although perhaps we should make an exception and allow Wanheda by her side."

Clarke's eyes flutter for a moment, then her expression seems to turn to stone. Raven never asked Clarke what she thought of the title she earned at Mount Weather, but she can't imagine her friend liking it very much. Raven can see it even now, the subtle shift from her friend Clarke to Leader Clarke, ready to protect her people. If that means turning herself into a talisman, a symbol of death itself, then that's what she'll do, Raven knows. Perhaps for her upcoming battle, it will help to take a page out of her friend's book.

Clarke and Marylen continue to haggle over guards.

"Alright. But we station two of our gunners at the door to get Raven back inside if they come for her."

"If they come for her, even you won't be able to stop them, Wanheda."

"Watch me!" Clarke growls, and Raven feels suddenly and eerily reminded of Bellamy - who might end up doing more for their survival than all the crowns and tattoos in the world, if he manages to get Abby here in time.

"How about we at least try not to let it get to that?" Raven suggests, noting with unease that apparently, she'll have to be the voice of reason here. "I'll just have to try and calm them down. While also telling them what happened to their king. And that apparently I'm going to be ruling them until he wakes up." Which better be soon, Raven thinks and determines to give Roan an earful as soon as he's back with her.

Actually, Raven decides, it might be good to check in with him now, see how he's doing. She's been busy preparing for their "visitors" all day, and even though she knows Clarle checked on him in regular intervals and someone's been by his side the entire time, Raven is suddenly anxious to make sure for herself that he didn't get any worse.

She slips out of the room quietly and hastens down the hallway to find Monty sitting by his bedside, immersed in a thick book on his lap. When he looks up, her worry must be written on her face, because he immediately jumps up and comes to meet her.

"No change, for better or worse. His pulse is steady." Then, as she takes stock of Roan's appearance and frowns because _something's_ different, he adds: "I got him a fresh shave. Clarke told me to - I hope that was okay."

Raven nods absently. "Yes. It's a good idea. If the warriors really are coming here because they're concerned about him, it will be good to show that we're taking good care of him.”

With a relieved nod, Monty leaves her alone, presumably to give her a moment alone with her still infuriatingly unconscious husband. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Raven tries not to wonder what will happen if the war party _isn't_ coming here to make sure Roan is alive, but to make sure he's really dead. With the Ice Nation and their fragile power structures, it's hard to tell what's going to happen, and Raven feels once more terrifyingly aware of the weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders. Compared to deescalating what might very well be a volatile diplomatic crisis, ending a nuclear apocalypse seemed like child's play.

With trembling hands, she picks up Roan's hand and cradles it in her own, reminding herself not to squeeze it too tight in her anxiety as she makes one last plea for him to help.

"You have to wake up. Our people need you." She swallows, reluctant to admit that she needs help even now, when the only person around probably can't hear her. “ _I_ need you."

Of course, there's no response, no perfectly timed miracle, and Raven prays to whatever Gods have survived the apocalypse that Abby and Bellamy will come through for them once more.

But Raven has never believed in any sort of deity, and Earth hasn't given her any reason to start doing so now. No, she realises and takes a deep breath, she'll have to save them all herself. And she sure as hell isn't going to do it armed with nothing but symbols and phrases.

Gently, she lays Roan's hand down again and slips out of the room. Outside, Monty is waiting, moving towards the door to return to his post as he sees Raven emerge, but she shakes her head.

"No. Get Miller and Harper to watch over him. Tell them to get armed to the teeth, and when the war party arrives, to bar the doors and not open them until I tell them to. No one's getting to Roan until I'm sure they're friendly.” Once that is taken care of, her brain has had enough time to come up with an idea, and she adds: “Then meet me in the smaller storage shed, the one with Portia's stuff."

Monty looks like he wants to ask something, but then he just nods and walks out to the front courtyard. Raven heads down the hallway in the other direction, out of the ruined back of the house and straight for the smaller of Marylen's storage sheds.

She's just found the object she remembered seeing when Portia showed her the treasures stowed here when Monty catches up with her. It needs some tinkering still, but it could work. It could be her insurance against surprise Azgeda attacks.

“I need your gun,” Raven commands before Monty can ask what she's looking at, and he hands it to her. With movements practised in Bellamy's seemingly endless mandatory gun maintenance sessions, she takes out the gun's bullets and lines them up on the table before her, next to the slightly larger cylindrical container she's found on one of the shelves. It looks a lot like the casings from the stun grenades used by Mount Weather, and maybe that really is where it came from. But most importantly, with a bit of tweaking and the powder from the bullets, it will be a powerful weapon she can conceal in the pocket of her vest. 

"Raven," Monty asks, trepidation obvious in his voice as he sees what she's holding, "what are you working on?"

Raven bares her teeth in what was intended to be a smile but clearly doesn't entirely work out.

“My plan B."

She's still far from optimistic. But at least when Captain Miller radios in from his guard post along the North road to tell them that he's spotted the approaching war party, Raven feels like she's ready for them – or as ready as she'll ever be.

***

 

Flanked by Dee and Marylen with Clarke right behind and two more Azgeda guards off to the side, Raven takes up her place in the courtyard to wait for the war party to arrive. Someone has taken one of the carved wooden chairs out of Marylen's kitchen and set it on a wooden platform, so apparently she has a throne now.

There really is nothing left to do but wait – but just as she can see the warriors come around a bend in the road just a few yards away, Portia comes running out of the house.

“He moved. The King moved. I think he may be waking up!”

Without thinking, Raven starts for the door - only to be held back by a hand around her wrist. Marylen is standing there, shaking her head.

“They'll be here any minute. You need to be there to greet them. Let someone else look after him.”

Raven wants to snarl at her, remind her who's queen here perhaps, but then she realises that's exactly it: She's the queen. Her first priority is to peace and to the safety of her people – _all_ her people. The fact that there's only one person she cares about right now must come second to that, no matter how much everything inside her is screaming for her to be there if Roan wakes up.

With a sigh, she steps back towards the throne, and Marylen lets go of her hand. Clarke, who has watched the exchange warily, is looking at Raven questioningly though, and she nods at her.

“Go look after him. I'll handle this.”

“Wanheda should be here,” Marylen interjects, but now Raven does allow herself to be a little selfish.

“Roan needs a medic more than I need some grounder superstition. Go!” This last one is addressed at Clarke, and her friend immediately disappears into the house. Raven turns and sits back on the throne, lays her hands flat on the armrests and waits for them to stop shaking. If she has to abandon the one person whose side she wants to be by right now, she's going to make sure it counts.

Portia keeps running back and forth to keep her updated on Roan, but by the time the first of the warriors enter the courtyard, looking around cautiously, there's still no news of him. Raven sends Portia back inside and watches as the warriors come closer, a good sixy of them in full war paint led by a hulking warrior on horseback.

Rising from her throne, Raven fixes her eyes on the man leading the party as she waits for all of the warriors to file into the courtyard and come to a stop, the noise of clanging armour and heavy boots slowly dying down.

She straightens her spine the way she always does before a challenge and says the first phrase in Azgedasleng she studied with Marylen earlier:

“Have you come to honour your King?”

Protocol demands that the question be answered with the phrase “We come to bow before our King.”

Instead, the man replies:

“We've come to see if our King is still alive, or if Skaikru have killed him and betrayed his alliance like they betrayed Trikru.”

Apparently, they're moving off script already, Raven thinks resignedly.

But as Raven looks around, racking her brain for what to do now – Clarke would know, she thinks panickedly, but Clarke isn't here right now – she realises that something is _off_ with the man before her.

The man is big, intimidating, and no doubt a powerful warrior - but he's not, Raven thinks, the war party's leader. She knows because his words sounded studied just like hers, like he's parroting someone else's words instead of voicing his own will. She suddenly remembers what she heard Kane tell Abby once about how he met Lexa: that she pretended to be a slave girl and made Gustus act like _he_ was the one in charge. While Kane and Jaha were practically ignoring her, she had the opportunity to get a good impression of them when they thought they were unobserved – and this, she's sure, is exactly what is happening here: The warrior before her is a decoy. Someone wants to take a good look at her without being watched themselves.

Surreptitiously, she looks around the crowded courtyard, searching for anyone who's acting differently than the other warriors, for something that breaks the sea of white war paint and clanging weapons – and she finds it. There's one figure towards the back of the crowd, smaller than the rest of the warriors, and sticking out in other subtle ways. For one thing, the person isn't wearing one of the Ice Nation's bone masks to obscure their face but instead has a hood pulled low over their face, bathing it almost entirely in shadow. For another, the distance between them and the warriors close by is just a little bigger than between all the other Ice Nation warriors, which indicates that either the person isn't all that close with the other warriors, or they're higher up in the ranks and everyone gives them more space out of respect.

Either way, Raven knows: this is the person she needs to convince, not the man in front of her.

The warrior opens his mouth to say something, but Raven lifts her hand authoritatively.

“Shof op.”

Miraculously, he heeds the command, and doesn't stop her when she starts walking, straight past him and into the middle of the crowd. Beside her, Dee moves to fall into step, but Raven looks at her and shakes her head, motioning for her to stay where she is. Dee doesn't look pleased but returns to her place next to Raven's temporary throne and Raven keeps walking, surreptitiously feeling for the grenade through the pocket of her vest. If it comes to it, if she's forced to use it, she wants her friends as far away from it as possible.

Then she fixes her eyes forward, ignoring everything but her target, and the warriors move aside to let her pass. When there's no one between her and the mysterious leader, face still hidden beneath their hood, she stops and raises her voice once more. She has to improvise a little, because there aren't enough protocol-approved phrases for what she wants to say, but she manages to string together enough Azgedasleng to make her point, she hopes.

“The King is not dead. He's still fighting, and we are still fighting for him. Our best healer is on her way to see to him, and when he recovers, he will return to the Stronghold to be celebrated as the hero he is. He stopped Praimfaya, at great danger to himself. For that, all of us owe him our lives, and our loyalty.”

The moment she finishes speaking, every warrior's head turns to the hooded figure, abandoning the pretense that they're just a common warrior as they wait for their leader's reaction.

Silence falls, tense and seemingly endless. Raven slips her hand into her jacket to close it around the grenade, reminding herself not to start nervously playing with it. She can feel her heart hammering in her throat, can feel the cold wind bite at her bare arms, but she keeps her eyes trained on the figure before her.

And finally, the leader takes a small step forward and replies, with a high, clear voice that identifies her as a woman:

"Os chichnes, strisis."

First, Raven is confused by the address. The word she thinks she hears is Azgeda for "little sister", but Marylen didn't tell her anything about people using that word to address non-relatives - much less their queen. At the very least, she apparently approves of her, as the rest of the interjection suggests: _"Good speech"_ , the woman praised her. The question is: was it good enough to prevent bloodshed?

Then the woman lowers her hood, and Raven spots a pair of all-too-familiar blue eyes. With sudden, absolute clarity, Raven knows who she's facing.

The woman, short and round and soft-cheeked, could not look more different from her brother - if it weren't for those eyes, pale and piercing, and the easy grace with which she approaches Raven. She looks her up and down, taking in the crown on top of her elaborate braid, the no doubt familiar marks around her arm, and finally the metal brace around her leg.

Raven can't remember feeling this nervous since she took her first engineering aptitude test. She raises her chin a little more, just to make it clear that she's not here to capitulate.

The woman nods lightly.

"Yes, I can see why my brother chose you. You're a warrior alright."

And then, before Raven is anywhere near done processing any of these developments, she calls out:

"Spek daun gon yo haiplana!"

“ _Bow before your queen,”_   the woman ordered, and as she sinks down on one knee, the warriors behind her follow suit - and Raven has the unique experience of watching sixty armed warriors bow down before her.

And slowly, as it sinks in that this is actually happening, that she actually did it, Raven's tight grip on the grenade eases up.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points for everyone who gets my little dig at Clarke's S3 Polis "The Wanheda Show"-outfit.


	12. Chapter 12

So this, Raven thinks as she looks at the woman before her, is Roan's sister. And with that knowledge, she manages to make sense of something else Marylen said when she arrived to warn her: the mention of Thea, a name she couldn't quite place then. But now, with the royal family's lineage still fresh in her mind, Raven knows that Roan's grandfather was named Theo, and his sister Thea in his honour. 

She extends a hand to indicate that the woman can get back up from her kneeling position, and Thea does, quickly followed by the rest of the warriors. Raven studies her curiously, still intrigued by the concept of siblings as a normal thing rather than a tragic accident, before she realises that everyone is looking at her, waiting for her signal on how to proceed. 

"Would you like to see the King?" 

The brief flash of unguarded emotion on Thea's face, relief tempered by fear, tells Raven that it's safe to let her close to Roan. 

When Thea nods, Raven turns and leads her back into the house. This time, she allows it when Dee falls into step behind her, and Marylen follows right behind. Thea takes no guards, instead instructing her warriors to wait in the courtyard - a sign of trust Raven notes with relief. And as they walk down the corridor to Roan's room, the only reason for her heart's nervous beat is the possibility that, behind the closed door, Roan is awake and ready to take up his place by her side once more. 

Just like she ordered, the door is closed and no doubt locked and barred from the inside, Miller and Harper standing outside of it with guns at the ready. Raven nods at Miller, who raps at the door and yells for Clarke to open it. 

While they wait, listening to the sound of scraping furniture on the other side of the door, Thea scrutinises Miller and Harper, taking in their Ark uniforms and automatic rifles with a look of mild surprise. 

"Skaikru guards?" 

"Not everyone in Azgeda is loyal to their king. I didn't know who was coming here."

"And you ordered your people to protect him if they had attacked?"

Raven's reply is neither lie nor manipulation - it's the truth. 

"Yes."

Before Thea can reply, the door swings open and they step inside, eyes eagerly falling on the bed... to find Roan still unconscious. Raven's throat tightens with disappointment.

Clarke, standing by Roan's bedside with her medkit at the ready, seems to notice her dejection. "He's not awake yet, but Portia was right - he's definitely moving more than he was before."

"That's good," Raven manages to croak out. She ignores the urge to rush to Roan's side, instead leaving the chair by his bed to Thea, who sits down gingerly. 

There are no shows of affection, no tears or pleas for the unconscious man to wake up, and Raven hadn't expected anything of the sort. But there's a softness in Thea's eyes when she looks at her brother that makes the remaining nervous tension drain out of her. 

Still, the potential for conflict is not averted completely, for after a silent moment, Thea turns back around to glare at Clarke and Raven. 

"I thought you said he was getting better." 

"He is," Clarke replies, voice steady, and Raven is glad her friend at least is confident because to be honest, she herself can feel doubt claw at her. 

"He had severe internal injuries and several of his ribs are broken, but the bleeding stopped. Now he just needs to wake up and recover. But for the moment, without any pain medication, it may be a mercy that he's unconscious." 

Thea looks unimpressed, and still more than a little suspicious. 

"How did he even get in this state?" 

Raven answers without hesitation - no matter what Clarke says, this is her responsibility. "When we blew up the power plant to stop Praimfaya, he got caught in the blast."

Thea's only reaction to this is a grim nod.

"But it worked? We're safe from the fire?" 

"Yes." Amidst all the things Raven is unsure of these days, this is the one thing she can confirm with absolute certainty. "The reactors were shut down before the cataclysm, and now they're buried under tonnes of concrete. We've been monitoring the air and water radiation levels nearby, and they're still all clear. Within the next weeks, we could send scouts to other at-risk areas within Azgeda territory and do checks there as well." 

Raven wonders if she should elaborate on the details of burying the reactor core, but Thea seems satisfied with the extent of information on the scientific side of things. 

"What about the other clans? The war?"  Thea asks instead, and Clarke jumps in to help out. 

"Trikru's army is severely diminished. They'll agree to peace if our conditions are bearable. Trishanakru have set their sights on Trikru territory, but they won't dare to pick a fight with Azgeda. All the other clans either keep to themselves or are too weak to face off against our combined forces." 

"Our forces?" Thea's raised eyebrow is another reminder of her brother, of which Raven is finding more and more as she studies the other woman. This member of Azgeda's royal family is not someone to be trifled with either. 

"Skaikru and Azgeda are allies." 

Thea turns back to Raven. 

"So that's what this marriage is about. A political union." 

Raven doesn't try to deny it. 

"It was your brother's idea. He wanted to be allied with Skaikru, and he thought a marriage would send a stronger message than just a contract."

"He's always been sentimental like that," Thea grumbles. Then her tone turns inquiring again. " And a political union is _all_ it is?" 

Raven isn't sure what to say. She's determined to tell Thea the truth, but she isn't even sure what that truth is; or at he very least, she hasn't put it into words for herself yet. 

She keeps her answer simple, limits it to the things she can say with certainty. 

"No. That's not all it is." 

It's not much, but it's all she's got - and it seems to be enough for Thea. 

Silence falls as they continue watching, waiting for Roan to find his way back to them. 

***

When he finally does, Raven almost misses it. 

Monty's been having some trouble with the Geiger counters, and she's been helping him work on them in her workshed. With Abby and Bellamy finally arriving just a few hours after Thea's war party, Roan's room has been getting a little crowded anyway, and Raven feels like he's being well looked-after. 

When she returns, it is to find the room in an uproar. Clarke and Abby are bent over the bed, struggling to hold down their patient as he thrashes around, apparently confused. Raven can't see his face, too many people in between them, but she can hear his hoarse yells, his voice going from broken mumbling to somewhat coherent words - _where? what? ...am I....?_

"If he doesn't calm down, I'll have to sedate him before he aggravates his injuries." Years of experience make Abby's voice calm and steady, but there's still a worried strain to it. 

The sound sets Raven back into motion, stepping into the room from where she was momentarily frozen in the doorway. And not a second too late, because the next thing Roan calls out is her name, frantic and hoarse and desperate, and she quickly steps into his line of vision. 

"I'm here, I'm fine." She nudges Clarke to step aside and her friend lets her through so she can sit down by his side and hold his arm. "We're fine. We both made it. But you're injured, you need to stay still and let Abby take care of you." 

It takes a moment, but eventually, she sees him relax as the information gets through to him. He lets out a deep breath, but his eyes remain glued to her as if he can't quite believe she's alive - just like Raven can't quite believe he's awake just yet. 

And yet, his hand is warm in hers, much warmer than it has been since the explosion, and when she takes it in hers, his fingers close around her. He's awake, and she'll get to tell him never to do anything so stupid again as go after her to save her, can apologise for putting him in danger in the first place, can tell him about all the things she's been thinking of introducing to Azgeda to get his bright future on the way.... 

But, she reminds herself, this moment isn't about her. There's someone else here who's no doubt just as eager to speak to him, and much more entitled to. Raven turns to where Thea is squashed against the back of the room, seeks out her eyes and beckons her closer. 

"There's someone here to see you," she explains to Roan before she sets down his hand and gets up to make room for Roan's sister. 

It's not until the next morning that she gets to speak to him alone. At some point late at night, Abby shoos out everyone still gathered around the bed with a stern reminder that Roan needs rest, and Raven only escapes her purge because, well, her bed is in there too. Abby looks ready to throw her out anyway, but Raven manages to soften her up with a plea to let her stay and the saddest puppy eyes imaginable, neither of which she has to fake - she really can't stand the idea of being separated now that she finally got him back. 

By the time Abby relents and Raven takes off her brace and slips under the covers on her cot next to Roan's, he has already drifted off - to sleep, she reminds herself when her heart clenches fearfully. Still, she curls her hand around his wrist to feel his strong, steady heartbeat, and only lets go when she falls asleep and it slips ouf of her grasp. 

Waking up to find Roan already awake and looking at her is like waking from a nightmare, one that took more of a toll on her than she realised. 

She's sitting upright in bed in a flash, and in another moment has heaved herself over to his bed. 

"How are you feeling?" Raven asks, hands fluttering in mid-air as if waiting for something to do before they remember that this is not their metier, exactly. 

"Sore, but otherwise fine I think. Abby gave me something for the pain." 

Raven nods, greedily taking him in. There's a little more color in his cheeks today, and his eyes are sparkling and alert even if his speech is a little slow. "

"And you'll tell her if it gets any worse," she commands, suddenly irritated with herself for not being able to do more for his health. She settles for lifting the glass of water from the nightstand to his lips and making him drink something, even though Roan protests that he's perfectly hydrated. 

"I've already had two Griffin women fussing over me this morning, I'll be fine without medical attention for a little while."

"This morning?" Raven looks around, surprised to find the room bathed not in soft morning light but the bright sunlight that indicates midday. "How long did I sleep?"

"A while. I take it you didn't sleep well the past few nights?"

Raven shakes her head. "Not particularly." Then, remembering what she wanted to do yesterday, she pierces him with a stern glare. "Mostly because someone went and got themselves blown up for me"

Roan grins toothily. "I kept you safe, didn't I? Now who says I can't protect you from a bomb." 

"Don't look so smug," Raven chides, trying and failing to hold on to her anger and not let the stupid man's nonchalant heroism get to her. "You almost died in the process. Not the best plan."

Roan shrugs, then winces in apparent pain. "It was the only one we had."

"I could have aborted the mission."

"And then what?" 

"Then I could have come up with a better way. One that didn't almost kill you," Raven replies, heatedly, and Roan's eyes soften. 

"But I'm still alive. And you stopped Praimfaya, didn't you?" 

Raven nods. She did that.

"I hear you also avoided a diplomatic crisis." 

Raven gladly jumps on to the distraction. As much as she wants to, she's not quite ready for Roan's forgiveness yet.  

"They sent an envoy from the Stronghold to find out what happened to you. I managed to calm them down." She makes a face. "It was horrible. I suck at politics."

Roan laughs, which judging by the pained flinch immediately following wasn't the best idea. 

"And yet you avoided a possible war." He smiles fondly. "So how exactly did you do it?" 

"Well, your sister did most of the work. She's the one who told the warriors to bow."

"And they did."

"They seriously did. I thought that was just a figure of speech, I didn't know there'd be actual _kneeling_." 

"Oh, they kneel. But you must have somehow convinced my sister to support your claim."

"Well, this probably helped," Raven points at the crown sitting on the nightstand beside her cot, which she's supposed to be wearing all the time while the war party is still camped outside. 

Roan's smile pleases her more than she expected. "It suits you." 

Of course, there's another element of her transformation that played an important part today, but Raven hesitates to tell him for a moment, suddenly unsure of her decision. What if the reason he didn't tell her about the tattoo thing is that he didn't want to bind himself to her so finally? What if he doesn't want her to walk around flaunting the symbols he earned with his own blood? 

But she won't be able to keep this from him for long anyway. 

"And Marylen said this would probably help as well." 

She pulls off her jacket and shows him the fresh tattoo, still slightly red and raised but healing nicely according to Clarke. 

"Apparently, if I have your markings, your people will find it easier to believe that our marriage is real." 

Roan just stares at her silently, face blank but eyes filled with what must be a million different emotions, none of which she can read. 

Then he lifts his hand and reaches out to gently, _gently_ trace the ring of sharp crescent shapes encircling her bicep. His touch is light enough not to hurt, but she shivers anyway. 

"I hope that was okay. I didn't know if there was a reason you didn't tell me about the tradition..." 

Roan swallows, and she watches his Adam's apple bob. 

"It was the best thing you could have done. And I didn't tell you about the markings because I didn't want to spring them on you. These aren't just for show. They say that we'll do whatever it takes to make this marriage last."

He continues to trace the lines of her tattoo with his fingertips, and she suddenly remembers tracing his scars in the same way just before she kissed him at the power plant, discovering the beauty of the shapes as much as the person below. 

"Well," Raven says, voice thick, "wasn't that the plan all along?"

That finally snaps him out of his fixation with her tattoo and Roan looks at her again, eyes still filled with emotion. Then he lets his hand trail down her arm to lace his fingers through hers. 

"I guess it was," he says, voice raspy, and perhaps, Raven thinks and feels her heart skip a beat, perhaps some of the things he's feeling right now match the ones she's been feeling. 

"Then let's just stick to that plan."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I finally wrote the next chapter of this story! As always, any medical and scientific details are vague at best and completely ridiculous at worst.


End file.
